The doctor is in
by squarey
Summary: Bobby goes in search of something...
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: As soon as I heard Captain Ross say "psych evaluation" my brain started buzzing. I am still playing around with writing in first person, please let me know what you think. _**

**_Disclaimer: The LOCI people are not mine. But I love to bring them out to play._**

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I had just finished entering some notes on my last client. Some were follow-up actions, some were reminders. I realized I had about 5 minutes before my next appointment, so I grabbed my I-pod to listen to something and clear my mind. My next appointment was a new patient, a referral, so I had a feeling he was going to be especially challenging. I closed my eyes and listened to a favorite Nina Simone song. Even though I had on earphones, I had the volume so loud that a person standing next to me could probably hear the music as well. 

_Darling, you are always needed  
And your tenderness is needed too  
And it seems that I'm never tired  
loving you, loving you  
never was a feeling stronger  
aching for the sweet things you do  
and it seems that I'm never tired loving you  
should the mountains crumble to ashes  
and the rain should cease to fall  
and if the river stopped its flowing  
you'd still be my all in all  
and if the clouds cover the sky  
so the sunlight wont come through  
then I will never, never, never, never, never,  
never, tire loving you _

When I opened my eyes, I could see by the light flashing on my phone that my next appointment had arrived. I set my I-pod aside and stood from behind my desk. I smoothed my plain black skirt and checked my pale blue blouse. I ran my hands across my hair, feeling that for the most part it was still fastened securely near the nape of my neck. I smiled to myself, knowing that I did these same three things just before each appointment.

"Mr. Goren." I opened the door to my office, extending my hand to shake his. He was a tall man, big, brown eyes, salt-and-pepper short hair. He kind of had a lumbering walk, but I sensed that he could probably move pretty quickly if provoked.

"Dr. Jones." He replied.

"You can call me Lucy if you like." I offered. I usually offered, and it was interesting to see what people did with that. A lot of people stayed with "Dr. Jones."

I stepped aside, gesturing for him to sit. I watched him sit on the couch, in the middle. He placed his hands on his knees and looked around my office. I walked over to my desk and lifted up his folder. My colleague who was on contract with NYPD had referred him to me, and had forwarded his file.

I sat down in a chair a bit diagonal from him, and set the file on the ottoman the sat between us.

"Dr. Lewis forwarded this to me. I reviewed the materials inside. In case you wanted to see what I read…" I gestured to the file, for him to pick up. He looked at me for a long moment, and then reached forward for the file. He leafed through the contents. Basically, the file portrayed him as a highly intelligent, well-trained criminal profiler, who had an exceptional case record as a detective with NYPD. It was also noted he was not great with authority, often went outside protocol, and my colleague Jonathon Lewis found him to be uncommunicative.

"You can see, Jon found you to be a bit uncommunicative." I was candid, referring to my colleague by his first name. He looked at me, placing the file back down in front of him.

"What am I supposed to communicate about?" He asked, looking at me.

I thought he looked caged. I could tell it took every fiber of will within him to sit still, with an open body posture, facing me. I knew that he knew enough to know that was the appropriate way to sit when being psychologically evaluated. It was important to be open, relaxed. But, I could tell he was neither of those things.

"Well, I guess you are supposed to say that at all points during this unauthorized investigation you were in complete control of what you were doing, what you were feeling. That you were driven out of concern for a family member, and that you recognize, in retrospect that you probably should have taken an alternative path than simply taking it upon yourself to get jailed and committed to a mental observation ward. You could go onto say, that you appreciate that you put your partner at risk as well as your Captain. And, that you regret putting other members of NYPD at risk, and will not let that happen again." I gave him the speech that he was supposed to give me.

"Would you like to say that?" I asked him, crossing my legs at the ankles and repositioning myself in my seat a bit. He looked at me some more, and I could see something in his eyes change, as if he were reforming his opinion of me.

"I bet even though you know that is what you should say to make this go away, you probably still cannot bring yourself to say it. Because, if put in the same position again, you would likely follow the same course of action." I hazarded, and again, he simply looked at me, but this time he moved his hands from his knees, placing them in front of him, palms together, kind of rubbing his fingers against each other.

"It's killing you to sit still like that." I stated it as a fact. "You can move around if you like." I stood, inviting him to stand.

"I have a nice view." I offered. He took a moment to stand, and then I watched him walk across my office, slowly by the bookshelf, slowly by my desk, then toward the window. I knew he was profiling me, trying to get as much of a read on me as I was trying to get on him.

"It's cold. The window." I moved to stand in front of the large window as well. I placed my hand against the glass and watched condensation form to outline my warm palm. He did the same. I could tell, he needed to touch things, to think about them, to manipulate them in his mind.

"So, what does my office say about me?" I asked, and with that question, I actually think he looked a bit surprised.

He turned, and looked around my office.

"And don't comment on the colors, or the furniture arrangement, or the books on my shelves. Tell me something I can't readily see." I could practically see him arranging information in his brain.

I watched him breathe in, deeply, heavily, and he turned to face me, looking down at me.

"You don't like lilies." He said. I smiled, and nodded. He was absolutely correct. I could not stand the smell of lilies, and I did not like what they looked like.

"You have an arrangement in reception, and you have one on your side table. Fresh flowers, big arrangements, no lilies. You must ask for "no lilies." Most arrangements like those have some kind of lily." He offered, I watched him move his hands freely in the air, as he gestured toward the door to reception, to the side table. I watched his breathing ease a bit; I could practically see him relax a little.

"I love flowers." I admitted. "But lilies, their smell is very strong." I provided. I let him look around my office a bit more, he seemed happy that he had pegged that piece of information about me.

"So, tell me, when is the last time you slept for more than a few hours?" I asked, changing the conversation back to him. He looked at me, and for a moment I wondered if he would answer. He placed his warm hand back on the cold glass.

"A while." He admitted, and I realized that was something. He did not answer my question with a question of his own. He had just provided more information to me than he had my colleague. I realized, that maybe I had a chance of getting some where after all.

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_**A/N: As always, I encourage you to drop a review - that will encourage me to write some more.**_


	2. Chapter 2

Two hours later I was working at my computer, and Robert Goren was sound asleep in my office. We had talked a few minutes about sleep. It was clear to me that his lack of sleep was interfering with his focus. I had a feeling lack of sleep was also a factor in his lack of judgment and his apparent erratic behavior. I felt we were not going to get very far until he got a little more rest.

I decided to introduce some strategies to help him get some sleep, so I asked him to lie down in the ergonomically designed relaxation chair in my office. He looked at me skeptically, but he did as I asked. It really was a spectacularly comfortable chair. Within 20 minutes, he was sound asleep.

I had not meant for him to actually fall asleep. I had simply intended to walk him through some things. When I realized he had fallen asleep I decided to leave it be. I did not have another patient for three hours, and I had plenty of work I needed to attend to at my desk, so I left well enough alone.

I could see him stir, first by lifting his hand to his head, then by moving his legs. I remained sitting, finishing up what I was working on. He moved slowly to sitting, running his hands through his hair. He looked even more disheveled than he had when he walked in, but when he looked at me; I could see that his mind felt a bit clearer. I watched him start a bit as he glanced at his watch. It occurred to me that he probably thought he had nodded off for a few minutes, and was surprised to see he had been asleep so long.

I stood, smoothed my skirt, checked my shirt, and ran my hands across my hair.

"You, uh, you probably do that every time you stand up from your desk." He waved his hand in my direction.

"Probably." I said, I knew that he knew he was right.

"That sleep stuff, you were talking me through, I guess that works pretty well." He smiled.

I walked around from behind my desk. He stood up from the chair; again I realized just how big he was as he towered over me.

"Same time tomorrow." I said. For new patients, sometimes I saw them each day for three days, and then I made a recommendation about how to proceed. He knew this, so it was not news to him that I would see him the same time tomorrow.

"Mr. Goren." I stopped him as he started to walk across the office.

"Bobby." He replied, inviting me to call him by the diminutive of his first name.

"Bobby." I said. "Tonight I need you to sleep. And, I need you to eat right."

He looked at me; again I realized that he was finding my approach a bit unorthodox. But, sometimes people needed to take care of basic things before they could address the larger things. He nodded, and I watched him go.

XxXxXxXxX

The next day when he came into my office, even though he had not shaved, and his hair was a bit rumpled, he looked better. I thought that maybe he had managed to do as I suggested.

"So? How did it go?" I asked, jumping right in as I followed him across my office. "How much sleep did you manage last night?"

"6 hours." He said, as he sat down in the middle of the couch. He picked up one of the large chenille throw pillows, running his hand across the soft fabric.

"6 hours." I repeated, sitting down as well. He nodded.

"To eat?" I asked.

"For breakfast, a bagel, some coffee. For lunch, some soup and a sandwich." He replied, still running his hand across the soft fabric.

"Well, maybe two bagels." He allowed. I knew this was not a typical eating pattern for him. I could tell he probably did not pay much attention to what he had to eat in a day. But, I also knew that since I asked him to eat right, he probably would try.

"Sounds good." I nodded, "what kinds of dinners did you have to eat growing up?" I asked, shifting the conversation a bit. I could tell he could see what I was doing, for a moment he stopped running his hand across the soft fabric of the throw pillow.

"I don't know." He said. And, I knew that he was not really making that up, or dodging the question. He looked at me for a while, and I waited, watching him. Then he flipped the pillow over, to touch the other side, and he started talking. I started piecing together bits of his family composition, mom, dad, and an older brother. Mom was sick, dad was not around much, and then not around at all, big brother was the apple of everyone's eyes, Bobby was lost. We stayed talking about family for about 20 minutes. It was enough for me to begin to understand potential correlates for certain aspects of his behavior.

"I remember, one time, my mother, she made a turkey and it wasn't even Thanksgiving." Bobby kind of looked around the office as he talked, his eyes kind of staying on the cold exterior window.

"Frank and I, we got home from school, I think it was warm outside, like spring time. The table was all set, the kitchen was full of food." He continued to stare toward the window.

"It was nice." He shrugged. I waited, feeling that there was more.

"She cleaned up by throwing everything away. Pots, dishes, pans, everything." He looked at me for a moment.

"The next day, I stayed home from school, saved what wasn't broken from the trash." He offered. Again, I waiting, feeling that there was more.

"School didn't miss me. Mom didn't miss me. Frank, he didn't miss me. Dad wasn't around." He returned his gaze to the window. And, there it was. I knew that he knew the memory wasn't about Thanksgiving in the spring, it wasn't that his mom had thrown away the pots and pans, it was the first time that he clearly realized that no one really kept track of him, that he felt he could disappear and he would not be missed. I thought that that was enough about family for one day. So, I changed the subject.

"Tell me, what was it like to be on Sodium Pentothal?" He paused from fiddling with the pillow. He knew that I had reviewed his recent experiences in the mental observation unit, so I knew it was my question that surprised him, not my knowledge of the event.

"Heavy." He said. "Well, light." He changed his mind. I looked at him, I really had no idea what it actually felt like to be on the drug.

"My body was heavy. My brain was light." He elaborated.

"How did you do?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" He replied.

"You were there under a false identity. Do, you remember, were you able to maintain that under the influence of the drug?" I asked. He knew that I realized that in as much as Sodium Pentothal inhibited higher cortical functioning, it really did not make someone tell the truth. Certain people would be able to maintain their cover under such drugs.

"I'm not sure." He said. "I'm not sure I remember." He thought about it. "I think I mixed it together, I think that is why they diagnosed me they way they did. I think I revealed both Robert Goren and my AKA under the drug. So, to them, I was kind of two personalities, or maybe I seemed delusional." He offered. I let that thought sit out there for a minute, before changing the conversation.

"Tell me again about your brother Frank, and his son, Donny." I watched him shift the pillow. He visibly tensed. His hands were splayed open, palms down on the pillow, he stopped fidgeting.

I listened to him give kind of a cops recounting of the situation, but his body language revealed his anger. At the end of his recounting, he alluded to the fact that even though his brother was a drug addict, and was often living on the street, at the time of their mother's death, Frank was still golden in her eyes. I could tell this was especially difficult for him.

Our session was nearing close, so I decided to shift the level of the discussion to something lighter.

"So, when you said you had soup and a sandwich for lunch, what did you have?" I was not surprised by the change in his body language; he loosened the pressure on the pillow, and return to running his fingers idly across the soft fabric.

"Vegetable soup and a grilled cheese sandwich." He said. "Well two." He allowed.

"Two?" I asked.

"Two sandwiches. They were good." He smiled.

"Same time tomorrow." I stood. "And, I have the same request. Try to get some sleep tonight, and please, try to eat right." He stood, looking down at me. For a moment he did not move, and I thought he was going to say something more. But, he seemed to decide against whatever he was thinking about saying.

"Same time tomorrow." He said, and I watched him go.

Tomorrow I knew that I needed to finalize my preliminary recommendation. I was scheduled to meet with Captain Ross in person for about 30 minutes. I would follow-up the in-person with a written letter for the disciplinary committee. So tomorrow, I planned to talk with him a bit about work, and try to get a feel for his relationship with his partner, his Captain, his co-workers.

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**A/N:** What do you think? Would you like to read more? 


	3. Chapter 3

"Hi, Mr. Goren." I walked into the reception area of my office behind him. I could see him jump. He was running a little early.

"Bobby." He corrected me.

He watched me take off my coat and hat. I moved my hands to smooth my skirt, but stopped myself, because I knew he was waiting for me to smooth my skirt, check my blouse (which was actually a sweater today), and run my hands across my hair.

"Bobby." I corrected myself, noticing he had shaved. I moved around him to unlock my office door.

"Come on in." I said. This time, instead of sitting in the middle of the couch, I watched him walk across my office to the window. He placed his hand on the glass.

"Not as cold today." He said. I watched him, thinking he did not sleep well the night before.

"I only got about 4 hours last night. But, I ate a good lunch today." He offered. I nodded. Today was day three, tomorrow I had a 30 minute in person meeting with his Captain to make my preliminary recommendation, which I would follow-up with a brief written statement.

"Sleeping and eating are very, very important." I said. He remained standing with his hand on the glass.

"Very, very important." He parroted my words.

"I have an appointment with your Captain tomorrow." I offered, he turned to face me. I didn't see any point in not mentioning it. In as much as NYPD was huge, I felt fairly certain that my meeting with Captain Ross would make it onto Bobby's radar. Someone would see something, or say something, and so on.

"What is your Captain going to say to me?" I asked. He looked at me for a long moment, and I could almost see him visualizing the conversation. Again, I was reminded of how intelligent he was, how insightful. I wondered what could possibly interfere with his judgment to make him act so seemingly rash at times. It was one thing to appear erratic in an interview to put a suspect off balance, it was another to be erratic and put your partner or your Captain off balance.

"That I've been erratic in my behavior, jeopardizing my partner, the squad. That I have shown a complete disregard for the chain of command. That I have been acting paranoid." He offered.

"Paranoid." This time, I parroted him. He was leaning back against the windowed wall, looking at me. I was leaning back against my desk, looking at him.

"Paranoid." He said the word again.

"Are you, paranoid?" I asked. I did not think he was, I wondered what he thought, and I also wondered what made others think that he was.

"No." His answer was simple, immediate.

"Why would your Captain say you were paranoid?" I asked, I was forming a guess. Bobby's body language probably undermined what he was saying. I could see that when he was tired, or distracted, his inflection was off, his body language was off. I had met Captain Ross before, and I suspected the Captain was listening more to how Bobby was acting that what he was saying.

"I don't know." Bobby said. And I saw, I saw what Captain Ross probably saw. I watched how he moved his hands, his body. The way he looked around the room, without looking at me.

"What are you doing?" I asked, seeing if I could get him to focus on his movements. He looked down at his hands. I could see him thinking about my question.

"I can't," He started to say, "I can't not," he moved his hands, but didn't finish his sentence.

"I'm not suggesting that. I'm just pointing out, that it could be that Captain Ross is focused more on your behavior than what you are saying." I offered, and I could see him considering what I said.

"Your partner. What is she like?" I asked. Again, he seemed agitated, he looked out the window.

"Does she gesture a lot when she talks?" I asked, giving him something more specific to think about.

"No. She's kind of still, her voice, even." He replied.

"And the Captain, is he able to listen to her?" I asked.

"Yes." He said, furrowing his brow.

"I'm not suggesting that you fundamentally change. But, you could probably adapt a bit so that your Captain can focus more on what you are actually saying." I offered. Again, he looked at me.

"You mentioned your partner, she is still." I offered a leading statement.

"Yes." He said, moving across the office. I watched him walk around, looking at things.

"When you went undercover into the prison, she was aware of your plans." I put some focus into the conversation. I moved to sit in a chair, hoping he would do the same. After a long moment, he did. Though, unlike the previous two days, he did not sit in the middle of the couch, he sat in the chair facing me.

"Yes, she was aware of my plans." He confirmed something that was already established.

"Is she always aware of your plans?" I asked.

"Used to be more that way I guess." He looked at me and thought a bit.

"Do you trust her?" I asked, watching him pick at the fabric of his pants near his knee. He nodded affirmatively. Again, I had to wait him out, watch him organize his thoughts before he started speaking. Finally he did say that he trusted her, that she was an exceptional partner, that she had his back each and every day on the job. But again, it was the things he didn't say, and the way his body language read as he was talking, that I sensed some unevenness in their partnership.

I had enough NYPD associated clients to know that partnerships were kind of a 24/7 deal. A lot of marriages were threatened by partnerships. Good partners shared an interesting connection. And for the most part I could sense this as Bobby talked about Detective Eames.

I talked with him a bit further. I was trying to gauge whether he had a conscious disregard for the consequences of his actions or whether he could not accurately comprehend the consequences of his actions. I knew he was intelligent enough, and trained enough, to see actions play out many steps down the road.

"How did you think this would end?" I asked.

"I, uh, I didn't." He admitted. I was interested in this.

"You didn't?" I asked.

"I just, I uh, was thinking about Donny, about his safety, my captain was not receptive to my concerns." Bobby said. I listened to him talk some more, about Detective Eames's role, about Captain Ross, about his inability, in this case, to see beyond his immediate thoughts.

I listened carefully, I listened to his words, and his affect. I watched his body language. In the end, I concluded he was not a danger to himself or on the job. But, I knew that he needed sleep. Sleep deprivation, especially played out over time, did strange things to people's mental operations.

"I am concerned that you are not sleeping. I think that this plays a large part in what your Captain describes as erratic behavior. I think this lack of sleep is detrimentally affecting your judgment and your thought processes." I let him know what I was thinking.

"When I meet with your Captain, I am going to state that I see no reason why you cannot return to your duties." I held his eyes as I talked. "But you need to sleep."

"Sleep." He said, scratching his head.

"Keep in mind, my recommendation is simply a piece of all of this. The disciplinary panel will be weighing a lot of information." I added.

"Sleep." He said again.

"Right, sleep." I offered. "I have a few more strategies." I looked toward the spectacularly comfortable chair.

"Do I get to take the chair home?" He asked, a bit sheepishly.

"No, but I can tell you where I bought it." I smiled. And, as he lay there with his eyes closed, I walked him through a few more strategies, in terms of relaxing, in terms of sleep. This time he did not actually fall asleep, which was a good sign. The first day, he had been so sleep deprived, that as soon as he relaxed he fell asleep. This time he was a bit more rested, so he was able to listen to me.

When I was done talking, I watched him move slowly to sit up and face me. He looked at me, tilting his head to one side a bit.

"When I came here, I didn't not think I would be leaving thinking about sleep." He offered.

"I think you think a lot. I think you know your circumstances very well." I candidly offered. In the past three sessions, it was clear to me, that his life was chaotic, emotionally painful, which explained why he was a detached adult who found personal relationships difficult. But, he was also very cognizant of all of those things.

"The one thing that you mentioned changed over the past year was that you have been unable to sleep." I offered. "That adds up."

He looked at me, and I noticed he was holding my I-pod in his hands. He was thumbing through my play list. I walked to him, gently taking my belonging from his hands.

"I have a colleague. If you are interested in seeing someone, I think she could probably help you think through some things, related to your family." I was purposefully obscure. My colleague was an expert in family processes, especially families of schizophrenics.

It didn't matter so much that his mother was now deceased; he still grew up with her, in her house. Also, my colleague could probably help him think through the anger he currently held for his brother Frank. He had mentioned to me that the last time he saw his brother he had told Frank that if Frank was standing on a bridge getting ready to jump that he would not do anything he would simply wait for the splash. And, while Bobby probably tried to convince himself that was true, I knew that Bobby would not be completely unaffected by that "splash."

I handed him a business card. I watched him place it in his pocket, though I doubted he would use it.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, on my way to see Captain Ross, I ran into Emil Skoda.

"Lucy." Emil's deep voice stopped me short. Emil knocked me a bit off balance. For the past few years, we had been in an on-again-off-again relationship. Currently we were off.

"Emil." I turned, smiling.

"Lucy, what're doing here?" He looked around, then back at me.

"I have an appointment, in Major Case." I offered, thinking that he may well have already known what I was doing there. He was pretty tight with the DAs office, and with NYPD.

"You look, well you look beautiful." He smiled at me, stepping closer to me. I held my ground, even though my breath shortened a bit. The attraction between us was undeniable.

I was the one who had asked for some distance. I realized, as he stood there, that perhaps he was more attracted to me because I had pulled away. Up until this time, he was usually the one to make the break.

"Thank you." I continued to stand, looking at him.

"I should go." I gestured toward the elevator; I did not like to be late.

"Right." He said, but he didn't move.

"I should go." I repeated, realizing I would have to be the one to turn and break the closeness. So, I did, and I walked toward the elevator, and I did not look back. I could feel him watching me walk away.

When the elevator doors closed, and I was alone, I took a deep breath. He told me I looked beautiful. I looked down across my body. I was wearing a navy pant suit, full legged, tailored jacket, white camisole. My hair was twisted away from my face, but I could feel that one of my molasses colored curls had escaped near my ear. I wasn't going for beautiful, I was going for professional. I thought that in as much as Emil was an excellent, trained psychiatrist, he was also a man. And, I knew that part of why I looked beautiful to him, was that currently I was trying to make myself unattainable to him.

I was frustrated that Emil could put me off balance. I found him to be handsome and smart. But he could also be arrogant. At times, he could be dismissive of me, of my opinions. The more established my practice became, the more sensitive to his arrogance I seemed to be. So lately, I realized that I needed something new, something a bit different.

The elevator came to a halt. Someone smart, but perhaps a bit humble in terms of his intelligence, like Bobby Goren. The thought popped into my head, and I almost missed stepping off the elevator before the doors closed again.

I played with the image of Bobby Goren in my mind as I walked toward the Captain's office. I was prepared to make my recommendation to the Captain. I had a good amount of experience evaluating the fitness of officers. And, I had good success with my evaluations. So, I knew that my opinion was respected. But what was my subconscious doing to me… comparing Bobby Goren to Emil Skoda. I was personally, deeply involved with Emil; whereas I had only met with Bobby Goren in a professional capacity a very limited number of times. So what was I doing comparing Bobby Goren to a man I was sleeping with?

I reached forward to knock lightly on the Captain's door. I had my hand up in the air when the door was yanked open from the inside and a petite brunette stepped out and crashed into me. I knew immediately, instinctively that it was Detective Alexandra Eames. She looked at me for a moment, murmured an "excuse me" and stalked across the squad. I watched her for a moment, as I heard the Captain calling me inside. I wondered about Bobby's description of her, about his feelings for her. And, again I caught myself thinking about Bobby Goren in an unprofessional way.

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**A/N:** _So, I have this thing for J.K. Simmons and his sexy deep voice. So, if Lucy Jones is a shrink, maybe she would know Skoda... _


	5. Chapter 5

I made the statement to the captain as I had planned. He did not really have many questions for me. He echoed my evaluation that one thing that had seemed to have changed in recent months was that Detective Goren did not seem rested, and that this seemed to contribute to his behavior in the squad, with his co-workers, his partner, his superiors.

I didn't inquire about the other pieces pending in terms of disciplinary action, but I did know that the initial action was 2 weeks unpaid leave. I figured the two weeks was almost over. Bobby Goren had started by attending a session with Jonathon Lewis, than Bobby was referred to me. So, by Monday, I thought that the disciplinary committee would have reinstated him, or they would have a new action in place.

"Thank you for your time, Captain." I stood. "I will submit my written recommendation this afternoon."

"Thank you, Dr. Jones." Captain Ross stood, moved from behind his desk and opened the door for me.

I walked back across the squad. I could feel some eyes on me. I went toward the elevator. As I was getting on, I could feel someone get on behind me. I was surprised to see Alexandra Eames standing beside me.

"You, you're Lucy Jones." She said, looking at me. I could see that she was feeling conflicted over engaging me in conversation.

"Yes." I answered her, wondering where she was going with following me onto the elevator.

"You just made your recommendation to Captain Ross for Detective Goren." She plunged ahead. I did not respond.

"I'm Detective Eames, his partner." She offered, taking a breath. I still did not respond.

"I'm just worried about him." She admitted. I kept my expression neutral.

"You should probably talk with him about that." I offered. I could not, nor did I want to, say more.

"Right, talk with him." She nodded, and the elevator came to a halt. I nodded, and she gestured for me to precede her off the elevator. I walked off, and she remained on, most likely returning to her squad room. Interesting, I thought to myself. She had not talked with him. I wondered again about the relationship between the two partners. It was clear to me that they were successful partners on the job, but I wondered just how well they communicated off the job.

XxXxXxXxX

Two weeks later I was testifying in a court case. I was called to enter the room, and was sworn in. When I turned to sit down, I could see Detectives Goren and Eames sitting in the gallery. He looked well, a bit more rested. I figured they were probably the investigating detectives in the case. We caught each others eyes for a moment, before the ADA began questioning me.

I kept my answers brief, to the point, I only responded to what was directly asked of me. I did the same with the defense attorney, keeping my answers short and to the point. All told, I was probably on the stand for about 20 minutes. Not much time really, but I felt my testimony was very damaging to the defendant. It was also enough time for Emil to enter the courtroom. His entrance almost distracted me from one of my responses. I felt fairly certain that Emil had entered looking for me. He had left me a few messages over the last several days.

When I stood, I smoothed my skirt, and straightened my sweater. I was about to run my hands across my hair, when I caught Bobby Goren watching me. Bobby had a small, knowing smile on his face. I knew he was watching me go through the little regimen I had when I stood from doing something. I stopped and placed my hands at my sides and walked from the courtroom. Emil stood and quietly followed me out.

"Lucy." He caught me in the hall. He softly touched my arm, keeping me close.

"You've received my messages?" Emil asked. I nodded.

"Dinner on Friday?" He asked. "I miss you." He said, and I felt he was being honest. In truth I kind of missed him as well.

"Yes. Friday." I said, and he smiled. I could feel someone move to stand closely behind me. Emil took his hand from my arm.

"Friday." Emil said, and again I nodded. I watch Emil turn and walk down the hall. I turned as well, needing to head down the hall in the other direction, forgetting I had sensed someone walk up behind me. So, I turned and crashed directly into the very broad chest of Bobby Goren.

"Lucy." He said my name, catching me by my arms to keep me from falling over.

"I need to see you." He said, looking down at me, tiling his head a bit. He let my arms go, but I was still standing a bit close to him.

"You could call Helen." I referred to the person that booked my appointments.

"Not in your office, I was, uh, hoping to see you not in the office." He said his inflection a bit halting. I looked at him, trying to think about why he would want to see me outside of the office.

"I just, I just, that is, I need, uh someone to talk with, I need a uh," He struggled with the words.

"Friend?" I asked. He nodded.

"I'm not sure…" I started to say that I was not sure that was the best idea. I had not met him under regular circumstances.

"Right." He said, looking defeated. I watched him scratch his hand through his hair, rumpling the short grey bristly curls.

"Coffee." I offered, "we could have coffee." I said, recognizing that I was standing on a very fine line.

"Coffee." He said. "How about 5:00?" He asked, clearly trying to set something up for today.

"5:00." I said, and listened to him name the place. I could feel him watching me as I walked down the hall. I was already wondering what the hell I was thinking when I offered to meet him for coffee. Though, I knew the answer was that I was really _thinking _at all.

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**A/N:** _Thanks for reading and reviewing me :) I cannot say often enough, that reviews encourage me to post my writing. So please, let me know what you think. _


	6. Chapter 6

I sat across from Bobby, brewing a super strong, super large cup of orange spiced tea. The place where we were served everything in to-go cups. So, when we had our order in hand, we had grabbed a table. He had prepared his coffee quickly, and was now quietly watching the production I was making in creating the perfect cup of hot tea.

When I was satisfied with the strength of the tea, I removed the tea bags and dumped in a whole lot of sugar. Then I replaced the lid and took a small sip, tasting my concoction. I was satisfied that it was as delicious as I hoped, and I placed the cup down on the table. When I looked up at Bobby, he was watching me, smiling.

"Do you want some tea with that sugar?" He asked, referring to the couple of tablespoons of sugar I had added.

"I like it very strong, and very sweet." I tried to explain. He nodded, though I noticed he was still smiling. When we had first arrived, walking through the door practically together, I wondered if meeting him like this would be a mistake, a gigantic uncomfortable mistake. If he was comfortable enough to tease me about how I like my tea, then maybe meeting like this would turn out OK.

"You were good at testifying today." He offered.

"Thanks." I said, wondering if there was something in particular he wanted to talk with me about. But, since we were not in my office, I realized I should probably not expect to talk about some deep issue, and that I should try to answer with more than a single word.

"You know, one of the hardest things about testifying is how I dress." I offered, and he looked at me, tilting his head a bit in the way he did when he found something interesting or strange.

"I testified for the defense last year, kind of a high profile case. The jury consultant they had actually took me shopping. She said I needed to look professional, smart, yet the jury needed to connect with me. So, she recommended I wear a simple skirt and sweater, not a suit, that I wear my hair up, but not too severely, and that I wear my glasses, even though I don't need them to see distances." I offered, taking another sip of my delicious tea.

"So, on the days I testify in court, I find myself standing in front of my closet thinking about those things. Strange, you know, when I should be thinking about what I am going to say. But I guess I have that pretty down pat, the attorney's usually go over my testimony before I set foot in court. No surprises." I mentioned, kind of prattling on.

"So, here we are, having coffee." I said, in a leading kind of way, gently probing if there was something on his mind.

"And tea." Bobby said, making me think he simply wanted to see me, or that he wasn't ready to address what prompted him to catch me in the courthouse earlier.

"Read any good books lately." I offered, a bit sarcastically; in a throw away kind of get a conversation started kind of way.

"Not really." He said, responding, and then he realized I was kind of joking with him.

"Do you come here often?" I asked, this time serious. But, I could tell by the way he looked at me he was trying to judge if I was still kidding him.

"Really, do you?" I asked again, letting him know it was a genuine question.

"No, not really. But I need to buy a new pair of sneakers, and the store is just down the block." He offered. And I thought, now we were getting somewhere.

"Well, lets go." I said, standing, and his eyes widened a bit in surprise.

"Do you mind if you bring a girl to buy sneakers?" I asked. "Or is it a guy thing?"

"No, no, uh, we can go buy sneakers." He said, standing, putting his coat on.

"Well, it's a good think they served us with these to-go cups." I smiled, leading the way out of the coffee shop.

"To the right." He said, directing me, and then he fell into step beside me.

"So, what do you look for in a sneaker?" I asked.

"My size." He said, looking down at his feet, which I realized probably not every store carried his large size.

"Probably a good thing, to have the right size." I smiled.

"Something plain, I guess. White, or mostly white." He offered.

"Something with good support." He added.

"Good laces." He furthered, and I realized he was catching on to the art of casual conversation.

"How about traction?" I inquired.

"Traction is good." He replied, and I think I might have actually heard him laugh.

"Here we are." He stopped and held the door for me.

I watched him scan the store for an area that seemed to have plain, mostly white sneakers, with good tread, and strong laces. I reached out to take his coffee cup so that he could inspect a few pairs of sneakers. When the salesperson came his way, I kind of milled around on my own so that he could ask for what he wanted to try on.

I was standing on the women's side, when someone came up behind me and wrapped their arms around me, kissing me on my cheek.

"Aunt Lucy." The very familiar voice of my 17-year-old nephew Jake said into my ear.

"Shopping for sneakers?" Jake asked. I was about to respond when I realized that Bobby had suddenly appeared in front of me. I could tell he was concerned, and a bit on the alert that someone had come up behind me.

"Not me." I said, as my nephew let me out of his hold.

"Detective Bobby Goren, this is my nephew Jake Horn." I made the introduction. Jake stood there, openly sizing up Bobby, who was standing there looking like he felt a bit foolish for reacting like I was being mugged.

"Are you shopping for sneakers?" I asked Jake. "Your mom said your team won the other night. Did you burn up the court so much you need new shoes?" I teased.

"Funny." Jake smiled at me, but he was also still looking at Bobby.

"What position do you play?" Bobby asked Jake. I listened to Jake respond, and then kind of tuned out the sports talk. It was clear to me that Bobby had an interest in basketball, the conversation turned kind of technical almost right away. Well, technical to my non-basketball-brain, anyway.

I kind of wandered off leaving the two of them to talk, still carrying my tea, and Bobby's coffee. I knew that Jake would be on the phone to my sister (his mom) as soon as he left the store, updating her that I was shopping for sneakers with some guy. I wondered how I would answer her question about who Bobby was and why I was out shopping with someone. I knew the conversation would circle back around somehow to Emil. She really did not hide the fact that she did not like how Emil seemed to string me along. She kept insisting that I needed a change, that either Emil needed to decide what he wanted from me, or that I should move on and open myself to someone new.

"See you later Lucy." Jake called to me, interrupting my thoughts, and gave me a wave as he walked out the door. I smiled and gestured in return.

"Nice kid." Bobby said, reaching out to take his cup of coffee from me.

"Yeah, he really is." I agreed. Not everyone 17-year-old boy was a nice kid.

"They don't have my size. They're ordering a pair for me to try on." Bobby explained. I could hear my blackberry making a ding-dong noise, reminding me that I needed to get going if I was to be on time for meeting a friend for dinner.

"Do you need to get that?" He asked, thinking it was my phone ringing.

"It's just a reminder. I'm meeting my friend Annie for dinner at 7:00." I explained. I followed him out of the store.

"I guess that means you should get going." He offered.

"Yeah, probably." I agreed. "Thanks for the tea." I said, my cup now empty.

"Strong and sweet." He said.

"Strong and sweet." I agreed, wondering to myself if I was simply talking about the tea.

"Lucy." Bobby said my name as I was about to turn and go.

"Thanks." He said to me.

"Maybe we could, uh, do this again sometime." He rushed out the words.

"There are probably only so many pairs of sneakers that one man needs." I teased him, and he kind of furrowed his brow.

"So, next time, we will have to pick a different errand." I said, answering his question, indicating that "doing this again sometime" would be fine with me.

"Right." He nooded, and he hailed a cab for me, opening the door for me to get again.

"Maybe we could find a good book for me to read." He said, rather wittily circling back around to what I said earlier.

"Maybe." I laughed, as he closed the door on the cab, just as I predicted my phone was ringing, and I could see it was my sister calling. I let it go to voicemail.

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**A/N:** _Normally, I have this urge to jump into a homicide, or drama, or something... let me know what you think – reviews are very welcome. _


	7. Chapter 7

I can always tell when I am nervous about going somewhere, as the "somewhere" draws near I realize I don't really have anything to wear. Strange I know, irrational, I know, but absolutely true.

On Thursday I found myself in my favorite clothing shop, kind of milling around, thinking that maybe something new would get rid of the tightness in my chest. Tomorrow night I had plans with Emil, and I could feel my breath shorten just a bit as I thought about meeting him for dinner.

The past little while I had kept to my resolve and kept my distance. But here I was, with dinner plans (and nothing to wear). A salesperson came by and offered to take my things to a dressing room. I followed her back, thinking that maybe one of the many things I had picked up might inspire me into a better frame of mind.

Dinner with Annie had been great. She is hilarious and extremely talkative. So I enjoyed a great meal, and a lot of laughter, and I didn't really have to put much effort into it. She did ask about my plans this weekend, and I mentioned I had a date with Emil. She smiled, that slight knowing smile only a close friend can have that kind of conveyed that she loved me but she didn't fully think that seeing Emil was a good idea but she wasn't going to say anything. So, she had simply patted my hand and asked me what I was going to wear. I laughed out loud, she knew me too well.

Returning my sister's phone call was not great. Since I sent her call to voice mail and waited a day to call her back, she had time to press my nephew for details about the man I was with in the shoe store. So, by the time I spoke with her she had me deeply involved with some new incredible guy. Jake thought Bobby was pretty cool. In Jake's book, Bobby knew a lot about basketball. And since basketball consumed Jake's every brain cell that made Bobby pretty cool. I on the other hand was beginning to deeply obsess about my date with Emil on Friday night. My sister was none to happy when she asked me over for dinner on Friday and I said I had plans. When I did not mention who my plans were with, she knew they were with Emil, so she reminded me how again and again Emil weakened my resolve and broke my heart. I couldn't disagree with her.

This morning I had actually run into Bobby Goren in the coffee shop about a block away from 1PP. I noticed him before he noticed me, which was not too hard since he was pretty much taller than anyone in the coffee shop. He did not look very rested, I thought maybe because it was so early and he had not had much caffeine yet, but he looked tired in his bones, like in his posture and in the way he carried himself. I had my tea in hand and walked over to him.

"Read any good books lately?" I asked softly, interrupting his thoughts. He looked at me for a long moment and smiled a bit. He had e-mailed yesterday some links to books on Amazon asking me if I read them. They were all over the map, from fiction to non-fiction, some of the more obscure ones made me smile – like _The Ashley Book of __Kn__ots_, which is actually a seminal book on tying knots.

"Are you OK?" The words were out of my mouth before I could stop myself.

"I was thinking about Eames, about, um, something, she, uh, said." He replied, stammering a bit, revealing he was feeling off.

"Have you talked with her?" I said, not sharply, but truthfully. He kind of shook his head "no" and then indicated he should get going. I smiled and told him I hoped his day went OK.

"Thanks." He said, and just before he walked out he offered, "you should buy that book, Ashley's book on knots, it is an invaluable reference." He really could be pretty funny. I knew he was looking for a friend in me, I could sense that he did not have many friends.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I was trying on the last thing I had picked up, a boat necked deep brown cashmere tunic style sweater, and a deep brown herringboned wool skirt. I knew as soon as I had the skirt in place that this was what I would wear. The cut of the sweater was kind of sexy, and I would pair a classic pair of to the knee heeled boots with the skirt. I knew that Emil would like the deep color against my fair skin, and I also knew that he found the boots sexy. I changed back into my clothes and gathered up the sweater and skirt to purchase.

I felt a little more at ease that I had found something to wear, something to feel good about. Then kind of randomly, I wondered if Bobby had talked with his partner about what was bothering him. I hoped he had, Bobby deserved a little peace in his mind. I wondered if that was why I was drawn to Bobby, I was kind of at a personal cross-roads and was looking for a little peace in my mind as well.

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**A/N:** _Thanks for the reviews :) I looked at the website Whoville mentioned (the APA website), and I do not think I am casting Lucy Jones as unethical (at least I did not intend to). She is no longer Bobby's shrink, and I do not plan for harm to come from her interactions with him. Again, if you would like to read more, please let me know. I love writing, but to stay "on-story" believe it or not, sometimes I need a little motivation._


	8. Chapter 8

Uncharacteristically I arrived for dinner with Emil about 15 minutes late. The traffic was miserable, and the cab ride was as well. I was about to try Emil on his cell to let him know I would be late, but 15 minutes seemed within an acceptable window. Any thing more and I would have called.

Emil was sitting at the bar having a drink. He looked very handsome in a dark shirt and sweater. I always melted a little bit inside when I saw him, especially when he was not aware I was looking at him. He was everything I might have imagined I would like in someone, smart, funny, fair-minded, everything that is, except available to me.

"I'm so sorry I'm late." My voice was quiet as I lay my hand on his arm. He smiled at me; he knew I really was truly sorry to be late. I wasn't one of those people who were always late and always "sorry." He accepted my apology by kissing me briefly, softly. I could feel my breath catch in my chest; I knew this was going to be an emotional roller coaster of an evening.

"You look lovely." He complimented me, and he tenderly tucked one of my dark spiral curls behind my ear. I had worn my hair down. Off hours I liked to wear it down.

"Thank you." I replied. He held my hand in his, just by the tips of our fingers, as he looked at me.

"Would you like something to drink? They're running a little behind. I think a table should be ready in about 10 minutes." Emil asked.

"Maybe a glass of wine." I agreed.

"Something dry and red?" He confirmed, though he didn't really have to confirm, he knew my favorite wines. I nodded, and listened to him order.

"Sit." He said, standing, allowing me to sit on the stool he had occupied. I crossed my legs tightly at the knee and kept my body slightly facing him. I noticed him looking at my legs, at the high heeled dark brown leather boots, and knew I had been right. I could tell he found them sexy. I smiled to myself, I knew him very well.

"How was your day?" He asked, looking at my legs for a moment longer. "Up until the point you were stuck in traffic on the way here, that is."

"My day was good. My patients were regular. No emergency referrals or evaluations." I offered. The emergency referrals or evaluations I received took a good amount of energy. I had to make an evaluation in a short time span. Then most times, I referred them out again to a provider better matched to their needs. The bartender placed the glass of wine in front of me, and I took a sip.

"This is excellent." I smiled at Emil.

"I thought you would enjoy that." He smiled, happy he had made a nice choice. I listened to him talk about wine for a moment. As he talked, I mentally reminded myself not to fall back into his arms and into his life only to have him push me back again. If I let myself, we would easily be "on-again" and I had to keep reminding myself that I did not want _easy_.

A bottle of wine and an excellent meal later, we were standing alone near the coat check. Emil was standing behind me helping me on with my coat, and I closed my eyes, listening to the deep sound of his voice. He was talking about everything he needed to do tomorrow, a busy Saturday of plans. I was not really paying attention to the details of what he was saying, I was simply enjoying his familiar touch as he gently placed my coat on my shoulders, and the way his deep voice kind of reverberated inside my chest.

When I opened my eyes, he was standing in front of me, asking me to come home with him. Every ounce of me wanted to go home with him, but what my body wanted, my brain would not allow.

"Emil, I…" I paused, looking at him, he caressed my face very tenderly. "I can't." I said simply. I had sorted through my brain for numerous lame excuses, but in the end, I had simply said the truth.

He looked at me for a long moment, as if he could read what I was thinking, what I was feeling. And, part of me knew that he probably could. This man knew me so well as to see inside of me. I was trembling slightly; praying the tears I felt inside of me would not wet my eyes.

"I can't." I repeated my words and shook my head slightly, as if to get my body to also say "no."

"OK." He said. "It's OK." He said, surprising me. As we stood alone near the coat check, he kissed me, and I was certain he could feel me trembling in his arms.

"We can have dinner again. And, I will ask again." He said. I nodded "yes" to this, I wanted to have dinner with him again, I wanted him to ask again, I wanted a lot of things from him, and I wanted to give him the chance.

"Let me see you home." He said, and held my hand as we walked out front. There was a cab standing at the curb.

"I'm OK." I said, meaning I could make it on my own. Emil opened the door for me, touching my face so ever softly.

"I will ask again." He said, and again I nodded. He shut the cab door, and the driver pulled away. I did not give him my home address. I did not want to go and sit at home along. Instead I asked that he take me a favorite bar of mine, a great place, with great music, and great drinks. I was upset, my hands shaking. I pulled out my phone to call my friend Annie to coerce her into meeting me.

About 30 minutes later, I was sitting at the bar, drinking a club soda (I already had too much wine) thinking that maybe I had been a little hasty in leaving Annie a message. When she did not pick up her phone, I should have hung up. I had been so upset that I had dropped my phone and only managed to put it back to my ear as I listened to the beep. I hated to leave Annie a hang-up in her voicemail so I had left her a rather disjointed message. In retrospect, I realized that my voice was probably quaking a bit, and that the fact that I was horribly upset probably came through loud and clear. If I knew Annie, and I did, she was probably speeding to the bar to rescue me.

I realized that I was feeling much better, much calmer. Maybe it was my choice in having a club soda versus more alcohol to drink, or maybe it was just the simple fact that a bit of time had passed between my decision not to go home with Emil and my sitting here at the bar.

I was thinking about calling Annie back, to let her know I was OK, well as OK as I could feel, so I was holding my phone in my hand when Bobby Goren walked up beside me.

"Wondering where your friend Annie is?" He asked, and I looked at him, my mouth literally falling open in surprise.

"I know you are a detective, but…" I responded, managing a tiny bit of composure. I watched him reach out and touch the "last call sent" button on my phone and I could see his name and number. Ever so slowly, it dawned on me that the very emotional message I left for my dear friend Annie Roberts, I had actually left for Robert Goren. Damn my electronic phone book and the use of last and first names all mixed together.

"I tried to phone you back, but it went straight to your voicemail." He looked around. "And, you uh, well, you sounded kind of upset, so I…" He offered, trying to explain why he was standing in front of me.

"Annie's last name is Roberts. When I went through my phone numbers, I must've pressed Robert for you, Robert Goren." I replied. I noticed that he looked better than he had when I had run into him in the coffee shop. He was looking at me, studying me.

"You look pretty." He said, kind of randomly. I smiled, I could not help myself. His compliment sounded kind of like a 5th grade boy telling a 5th grade girl that she was pretty.

"Thank you, and thank you for not leaving me sitting here wondering about Annie." I offered knowing that not everyone would respond to a mis-sent voicemail.

"What're you drinking?" He asked.

"Club soda." I wondered for a moment why he had asked. Then I knew that he was trying to gauge if I really was OK.

"The music is pretty good here." He observed, kind of standing awkwardly to the side of me.

"Yeah, it's pretty good." I replied. "Why don't you sit down." I gestured to the seat that had just been vacated by some guy that Bobby had been standing unnaturally close to. He nodded, and moved his large frame onto the small bar stool. He ordered a beer, and we sat and listened to the music for while. When the set ended, he ordered another beer and I ordered another club soda.

"So, did you play basketball or are you a fan? Or, maybe both?" I asked, thinking about the conversation he had with my nephew Jake.

"Both, I guess." He replied, and told me that he had played on a team when he was younger, and now he was a big fan of college ball, not so much professional. I listened to him talk a while about college basketball, filling my brain full of details college basketball teams and players. As much as I was trying, my non-basket-ball brain was not really retaining a lot of the information.

I found him charming, and funny. On the surface, he seemed to lack certain social skills, but I realized that he probably acted a certain way to manipulate people into doing what he wanted. For example, at first I thought he was unaware he was standing so close to the guy sitting next to me, causing the guy to leave his seat. But as soon as Bobby sat down, I realized that Bobby had probably stood too close on purpose because he had wanted the seat, he had wanted to sit down and listen to music with me for a while.

I stifled a small yawn, realizing I was getting tired. It was late, much later than I usually stayed out.

"I hate to say this, but I don't think I can make it until the next set." I said, paying my tab for my 2 club sodas.

"Really." He said, and I thought he looked slightly disappointed.

"Really." I replied, this time yawning a bit for real. I moved to stand.

"Let me get you a cab." He said, standing at the exact same time. I found myself practically in his arms, my hands splayed open against his broad chest. I looked up at him, and was reminded how he had told me I looked pretty. Again, I was drawn to him. He did not move away; he remained close, looking down at me. And, I sensed he was drawn to me. So there I was, standing very close to him, my palms soaking up the warm heat of his body, my hazel eyes looking into his soft, intelligent brown eyes.

"I should go." My voice was quiet, almost a whisper, but I managed to step away. He moved a bit, as if to follow me to get the cab. I realized I couldn't have him follow me outside. I was still twisted up a bit inside from turning away Emil's request to go home with him.

"You should stay. There are plenty of cabs outside." I said, grabbing up my coat, and moving across the bar before Bobby could protest. As I walked outside, I thought of Emil, I wondered if maybe the man I couldn't have was making me want the man I shouldn't have.

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**A/N:** _Thanks so much for your reviews. Not surprisingly, your reviews are contributing to the direction of the story. So please, feel free to drop me a review and let me know you are reading._


	9. Chapter 9

On Saturday night I was sitting on Annie's couch watching movies. She had invited over about 6 of her friends for a "movie night." Annie always had a way of making me feel better. I knew most of the other women there, so I was having a really great time relaxing, listening to the conversation swirl around me, smiling over their laughter and the hilarious choices in movies, and stuffing my face with popcorn.

I was startled when my blackberry starting vibrating violently in my pocket. I pulled it out and checked the screen to see a text message from Bobby Goren "can you meet me?" That was all. I looked at the screen for a moment, trying to decide how to proceed.

"Is someone calling you?" Annie asked, noticing I was holding my blackberry in my hands.

"Kind of. A text, but I need to call back." I replied. I expected her to give me a bit of grief. Had it just been the two of us watching movies, I knew she would have laid on the guilt for the interruption. But there was a whole room full of us, so Annie did not say anything.

I crossed the room to stand in the kitchen and dialed Bobby.

"Lucy?" He answered; clearly he knew it was me by his caller id.

"Are you OK?" I asked, thinking about his cryptic text message.

"Are you at a party?" He asked, not answering my question, responding to the background noise on my side.

"At Annie's." I replied. "Are you OK?" I asked again.

"Can you meet me?" He asked, again not answering me, letting me know that he was probably not OK.

"Where?" I asked. I closed my eyes as he told me he was in the ER.

"What?" I kept my eyes closed as I asked the question. Nothing duty related, something about him smashing his fist into the window of a car. The window had held, his fist had not.

"Can you meet me?" He asked again.

"Yeah, 20 minutes." I said, calculating how long it would take for me to get there.

"I'm sorry Annie, I have to take care of something." I said quietly to my friend. She did not ask me about it in front of everyone else. I knew she would call me tomorrow. I said goodbye to everyone, it was late, and so it was not too out of the ordinary for me to be leaving.

I walked through the visitor's entrance into the ER, the bright lights making me blink a bit. I looked around the waiting room, which was relatively empty, maybe about 5 people sitting, waiting to be seen. I did not see Bobby. So, I went to the information station to check on his whereabouts.

"Did Bobby call you?" I turned to face the person asking me the question, and was surprised to find Detective Alexandra Eames standing in front of me.

"Yeah, yeah he did." I offered, honestly. She nodded, looking at me, not saying anything.

"When did he call you?" She said after a few moments.

"About 20 minutes ago." I replied.

"What did he say?" She asked.

"He said he punched the window of a car, and that the window held and his hand did not." I came close to answering her question with one of my own, but I knew that could be very frustrating, my questions could wait. So, I did my best to be open and direct.

"That was pretty much the way of it." She said, she looked at me for a moment longer, and then she looked around. By her response, I could tell she had been standing there when it happened.

"Was it your window?" I asked.

"Yeah, yeah it was." She replied.

"He's fine, you know. Probably nothing broken, but they X-rayed to make certain. His knuckles, they're a bit split open." She said, looking at me.

"His hand probably hurts like hell." She continued. I nodded.

"So he called you." She said again. She was obviously still trying to make sense of that piece of information. I felt fairly certain that she knew that he was no longer my patient. And I wondered if she called my professional judgement into question about recommending that Bobby could return back to work. Him punching a car window, off duty, in an of itself was not necessarily significant. Part of me did wonder, and I'm sure part of her wondered if this was indicative of future behavior. I was thinking probably not. My guess was that he didn't often punch car windows, that usually his anger kind of snuck up on him and he probably threw a suspect against the wall. This was probably a case of him managing some restraint and punching the car window after whatever had been bothering him had passed.

I looked at Alex Eames, who was still looking at me, still sizing me up. I knew there was a disconnect between them, and I knew that it had a lot to do with everything Bobby had been through in the past year, and I guessed that he had not been especially communicative with her about everything he was feeling.

"I don't think he called me instead of you. I think he called me in addition to you." I tried to explain, I didn't know if what I said made much sense to her.

I guessed the truth of it was that I was a bit easier for him. He did not rely on me in the workplace, he did not rely on me for his life. He relied on her for those things. And, he did not have years and years of history with me. So, comparitively his feelings for me were probably relatively straightforward. His feelings for her on the other hand, probably were not. In me, he had someone that would come out in the middle of the night after he punched his fist into a window, and pick up him from the hospital, and not ask too many questions. With her, it was much, much more complex.

"Whatever." She said, and looked at me for a long moment. She rubbed her forehead with her fingers, she was clearly tired.

"You can be here _instead_ of me." Her voice was soft, exasperated. I watched her turn as if to go.

"Ask him," She said, "ask him to call me." She did not turn to look at me, she simply asked this of me. I could tell that she wanted to hear from him, I could tell she was concerned.

"I will." I said, and she walked down the hallway to leave the hospital.

When I turned back around to the ER desk, the woman behind it was looking at me.

"I'm here to see a patient, Bobby Goren." I offered.

"Are you related?" She asked.

"Yes, I'm his sister." I responded without hesitation. I was not in the mood for a back and forth about whether I would be permitted into the exam area. The woman looked at me for a moment. She had asked what she was supposed to ask, I had answered how I was supposed to answer.

"Exam 6." She said, and buzzed me back through the door.

I moved through the curtain to find him sitting on the exam table, his right hand bandaged.

"Your right hand?" I blurted out the first thought that had irrationally entered my mind. He was left handed, so I had expected his left hand to be injured. He looked at me and smiled, I was coming to know this particular smile as his reaction to when I said something completely unexpected.

"I was holding something in my left." He replied.

"Clearly it wasn't your temper." I smiled. No use getting into anything. It was what it was, the rest probably would come up in conversation later. His smiled widened.

"You look different." He said, tilting his head a bit, looking at me.

"It's the middle of the night." I replied.

"Everyone looks different in the middle of the night." I added. I realized he was again kind of awkwardly referring to my appearance. I was wearing a pair of incredibly old loose jeans, an ancient oversized hunter green fisherman knit sweater, and my hair was pulled back into a messy pony tail. I looked like a college co-ed.

"Everyone looks different in the middle of the night." He repeated my words with a slightly different tone and meaning. I looked at him a bit more closely.

"Did they give you something for the pain?" I asked, thinking he looked a little sedate, a little slow.

"Yeah." He nodded, choosing that moment to move to stand. He nearly fell over on me.

"Where's Eames?" He asked, looking around.

"She needed to go." I said.

"She asked me to ask you to call her first thing in the morning." I said.

"What for?" He asked, looking down at me.

"Please, just call her." I replied, not wanting to get into a discussion with him about why. He needed to talk with her about that, and I did not want to be in the middle.

"OK." He said, after a moment. Then with his left hand, he scooped up some papers that were on a nearby table. I took them from his hand. They were his discharge papers.

I took a step backward. I wanted him to take a step toward me, and make certain he was steady on his feet. He looked at me like I was behaving strangely.

"I just want to see if you are steady on your feet." I looked up at him. He took a step toward me, ending up almost on top of me.

"I'm steady." He said, reaching out and touching a stray curl near my temple. He playfully pulled the tight spiral straight, and then he let it go and watched it bounce back into place.

"Yeah, you're steady." I laughed a little, thinking that a clear headed Bobby wouldn't being playing with my hair.

"Steady as I'll ever be." He reached out, again taking that strand of hair in his fingers, but this time he moved his fingers more slowly, this time he looked into my eyes as he caressed the spiral curl and touched the side of my face. I looked up into his eyes, so intense. In what I felt to be the last possible moment, I took a small step backward.

"We, um, should go." I said, my voice betraying me by being a little uneven. I noticed his next step was not at all steady, and I watched him pause to catch his balance. Whatever they had given him for pain was probably hitting him full force.

We walked in silence to the car. I opened the passenger door for him and watched him climb in, a bit awkwardly with his right hand bandaged. I helped him with the seat belt, and then I moved and climbed into the driver's side. Bobby's eyes were closed. He gave me directions to his place, keeping his eyes closed. I could tell by his breathing that he was not asleep, but I didn't try to engage him in conversation. I figured if he wanted to share why he had punched his fist into a car window he would. But I also figured I was not really the one he needed to share with. If he was with Eames when he did it, what he did was most likely related to work, and I really hoped he would talk with her.

When I pulled up in front of his building, I put the car in park and came around to open the door and undo his seatbelt, which would have been hard for him to work with his bandaged right hand. He climbed out of the car, and again I found myself standing close to him, close enough again to reach out with my palms and feel the heat of his chest against my skin. But I refrained.

"Thanks Lucy." He said, looking at me, not moving away from me.

"Call Alex." I said, encouraging him to communicate with her about what had happened tonight.

"Right, call Alex." He said, but it seemed a bit unconvincing.

I watched him walk into his building, his lumbering stride a bit uneven. He was a bit uneven. I wondered if that was why we were drawn to each other. I was even, he was uneven, and to him maybe I seemed like a nice way to even out what was putting him so off balance.

Even and uneven. It made my brain jump to Emil. He was even, I was uneven. People were relative to circumstances, and I wondered how current circumstances might change people around.

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**A/N:** _Thanks for the continued encouragement with your reviews. I wonder, can you see that what you write to me affects the direction of the story. You change my thinking, you change my writing :) Again, please keep me thinking by telling me what you're thinking._


	10. Chapter 10

Thursday night came, and I found myself about a breath away from kissing Bobby Goren. My heart felt like it had stopped in my chest, my breath was definitely caught in my lungs, my eyes were closed, and I was moving up onto my toes to touch my lips to his when my phone rang. I jumped as if I had been electrocuted.

I opened my eyes, and looked into his, as the song blasting away as my ring tone penetrated my brain.

"That's my nephew Jake." My voice was soft, barely audible. I said the words kind of to myself, kind of to Bobby. I was frozen for a moment, my brain playing over the evening all the way up until this moment.

Bobby had called me earlier in the day, inviting me to dinner. I had evening hours, so I told him I couldn't make dinner.

"How about dessert?" He asked. "You do eat dessert." He added. I could almost hear the smile in his voice.

"Do you?" I responded.

"Do I what?" He asked.

"Eat dessert." I asked.

"If it involves seeing you." He said, kind of stating it as a fact. I smiled.

"Yes, I eat dessert. I love dessert." I admitted, thinking that something deliciously rich and creamy would be the perfect end to a rather long day.

"Good. 9:30 then." He said, and named a place about 2 blocks from my office.

"OK." I was about to hang-up.

"I'll pick you up at your building." He added, making me realize he didn't want me walking the short distance alone.

"9:15 then." I replied.

"Good. See you then." He replied, and hung up first.

9:15 rolled around quickly. When I walked out of my building, Bobby was just walking up. He looked like anything but a NYPD detective. In fact, he looked a bit shady. His tall, broad frame was encased in a large black wool coat. He wore a dark knit watch cap pulled down low over his head, and black gloves. It was cold, so I couldn't blame him for dressing warmly. But, he did look like he belonged a bit on the wrong side of law.

As I hit the wintery wind, I wrapped my scarf more securely around my neck and pushed my hands into my gloves. I smiled up at him, thinking we were quite the contrast. My winter coat was a deep ivory, my scarf and gloves a festive bright red.

"You look cherry." He said to me, and I quirked my head at him.

"Cherry?" I asked, thinking he was making fun of the red.

"Cheery." He corrected, and I realized that the scarf and the wind were ruining my hearing a bit.

"That's me, cheery." I smiled, as we started the short walk down the street. When we arrived inside we unbundled, hanging our winter wear on the hook on the edge of the booth.

"You are, you know." He said to me, causing me to look at him, not having a clue what he was talking about.

"Cheery, you're cheery." He added, in that way he had of simply stating. I rolled my eyes a bit as I sat down.

"What can I get you?" A server was at our table, after allowing us a few minutes to peruse the menu.

"I'll have the blackberry cobbler, with the vanilla ice cream." I said, in a such a way that I felt it was probably pretty clear to someone as astute as Bobby that I had been thinking about ordering that dish long before I even opened the menu.

"The apple crumble." He said, looking at the menu, "with the cinnamon ice cream." He added. The server nodded jotting down both of our orders.

"Its freezing." I said, still shivering a bit from the cold. "You know, my sister and her husband took off for vacation today. They are staying a few days in California, then heading to Hawaii for the week." I was jealous that they would be warm, while I was in New York shivering.

"Have you been to Hawaii?" He asked, and the conversation kind of zoomed off from there. Bobby had traveled practically all over the world. Someone who did not know him well would probably think he was just a quirky kid from Canarsie, and that he had never left New York, but his experience with the military gave him the opportunity to travel quite a bit. It was fascinating to listen to him talk about the places he had traveled.

We ended up sharing each others desserts. He insisted that the cinnamon ice cream was the way to go, that the complexity made both the apple crumble and the blackberry cobbler sing. I, of course, preferred the pureness of the vanilla. So, we laughingly debated that for a while.

Then, we realized, a bit sadly I think, that it was almost 11:00, and the server was glaring at us to finish up so she could close her station. Bobby paid the bill before I could protest, and before I knew it we were standing out front bundled up in our coats, me fighting with my scarf. And, that was how I came to be standing in his arms.

Bobby had turned me, wrapping the scarf around me, kind of pulling me closer toward him. As his hands were on my scarf, I noticed the knuckles of his right hand still broken open and bruised. I thought of what he had said the other night, about feeling as steady as he ever could be. I thought about how it felt when he touched my face so tenderly, about how when we stood this close my insides practically stopped. Then I was leaning into him, wrapping my arms around his neck, moving up on my toes to bring my lips to his, and my phone started blasting some loud pop song.

To be funny, Jake had programmed in his own personal ring tone, so if he was calling me, I would know right away. And it worked, anyone else ringing in on my boring "ding-dong-ding-dong" quiet tone would have been ignored. But, my sister was jetting across the country, on her way to California, and Jake was staying with his best friend's family for the week, so I figured it must be important if he was calling me.

"Jake?" I picked up the phone, the wind biting through my coat, Bobby moved his arms from my scarf, and I couldn't help but smile as he continued to hold me loosely in his arms. Jakes voice was a whisper I could barely hear him.

"…a gun, he has a gun… …shoot himself… …Dee is hurt…" I was only catching fragments of what he was saying. I could feel all of the color drain from my face and I pressed the phone closer to my ear.

"A what? A gun. Someone has a gun?" I asked. "Where are you?"

Bobby immediately pulled me back into the restaurant lobby. I was listening to Jake and looking up into Bobby's eyes.

"Speaker phone." Bobby mouthed the words to me, and I took the phone from my ear and jacked up the volume. I could hear much better, out of the wind, with the phone on speaker.

"Rob, he has a gun, he's on something, I don't know. Dee, she was cheating on him, he threw her against the wall, I think he knocked her out, he has a gun, he said he is going to shoot himself." Jake was still whispering into the phone, and it was clear he was in the room where all this was happening. Jake paused for a moment, and then he whispered where he was, the address.

"Jake, listen to me, leave the phone on, we're on our way, leave the phone on, set it down, and leave the phone on so we can hear." I said, not wanting him to be spotted talking on the phone if some guy was in the room with a gun, not wanting to take the chance he would see Jake and shoot him for being on the phone.

"Keep still, don't say anything, just set the phone down and leave it on so we can hear." I said again. I thought about the address, I was looking at Bobby desperately. He was on his phone, calling it in.

"Put your phone on mute." Bobby said to me softly, this was so that the other side could not hear our background noise. I nodded, putting the phone on mute.

I was holding my phone in my hands, which were now shaking violently. He gingerly took my phone away from me.

"You did fine. You said the exact right thing." Bobby's voice was quiet, even. He looked at the phone, listening.

"Where are you going?" We could hear a male voice shouting. "Everyone just sit down." The person yelled, and we could hear some shuffling, someone was crying.

"Who knew this? Which one of you knew about this and didn't tell me?" He was yelling, and it was clear to me he wanted to know who knew about his girlfriend Dee cheating on him. I prayed no one would say anything, I prayed no one would do anything to set him off.

A black and white pulled out in front of the restaurant, and Bobby held the phone carefully in one hand, I could tell he was making sure we kept reception. With the other hand he held onto me and brought me with him into the police car.

"Keep the sirens off." Bobby asked as we pulled away from the curb. My eyes were fixed on the phone Bobby held in his hand, watching the bars that indicated reception, listening to Rob yelling, wanting to know "_who knew, who knew about my cheating bitch of a girlfriend_."

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****A/N:** _rindy713 suggested I bring on the drama and see where it takes us. So, here goes… As always, please review me and let me know what you think._


	11. Chapter 11

My brain was racing, my sister and brother-n-law were probably landing in California close to the same moment that we were pulling up to the curb about a block away from the address that my nephew Jake had given me over the phone. I had to call my sister. I had to tell her to come home.

Tap.tap.tap. Someone's knuckle was rapping on the window of the car. It was clear to me that Bobby recognized the tall man with black hair, and Bobby motioned to me that he would be right back. As he got out of the car, he handed off my phone to another blonde guy, who slid into the car next to me. He introduced himself, but for the life of me his name did not penetrate my brain. His job did though, he was some kind of technology guy with NYPD and I knew he was there to make certain we did not loose the connection to inside the house.

I realized I was shivering even though the inside of the car was warm. As the blonde officer analyzed my phone, I kept listening to what was going on inside the house. Rob was alternating between yelling at the other kids in the room, and threatening to kill himself. My mind was working on this as well, about how to diffuse the situation inside the house. I wondered who was pulling up on scene from NYPD. I didn't think I was over estimating NYPD's response when I thought they were treating this as a hostage situation, which would involve some kind of trained negotiator and an ESU team. I didn't think outside contact was going to work. In fact, any contact from the outside identified as a police presence would probably escalate things and either Rob would shoot himself or hurt someone inside the house.

I was going over different scenarios, most of them ending badly. One tenable scenario was time. NYPD was still responding, so time might give room to Rob passing out. He was becoming more incoherent, making me believe he was continuing to drink, or had taken something that was increasingly affecting him.

I watched the blonde NYPD officer handling my phone. He indicated to me he had done something to secure and forward the signal to a better device located in the van about two cars in front of me. He lay my phone back on the seat beside me, and he and the uniformed officer that had been driving got out of the car we were in and walked toward the van.

Before I had a chance to follow, the tall black haired detective that had tapped on the window when we first pulled up slid into the seat beside me.

"I'm Mike Logan, I work with Goren in Major Case." He introduced himself. "Goren wanted me to let you know that he is in gear, wired, and going in."

I think I completely surprised Mike Logan by not saying anything, instead I moved quickly and started to crawl over him toward the open door. I did not think that Bobby going inside was a good idea. I really thought we should let a bit of time slip by, just another 10 minutes.

"Whoa." Logan said, grabbing a hold of me, gently pushing me back into the seat.

"10 minutes, we should just wait 10 minutes." I was saying as Mike Logan physically held me in place.

"Rob, he's losing coherence, every minute. It is almost as if he is dozing off, passing out." Logan was continuing to hold me in the car. I was continuing to try to get out.

"10 minutes, the kids in there, they are keeping quiet, Rob will pass out, then you can go in." I pleaded.

"Goren is already in." Logan said, looking up the block at the house where I realized I could see Bobby standing outside of the front door. Logan reached out and clicked my phone closed, gaining my full attention. I looked at him like he had lost his mind.

"You can listen on this." He said, and sat back, making himself comfortable, making it clear that he was sitting in the car with me, keeping me in the car with him.

"Yeah, uh, you're going to have to turn it down a notch." Bobby was saying to whoever had opening the door.

"It's late, and the music, it's way too loud." Bobby continued, he did not identify himself as NYPD, nor did he identify himself as a neighbor.

"Turn it down." A girl's voice said, she sounded a little shaky. I could see that she moved to shut the door on Bobby, but he kept her from closing him out.

"How about if I just step inside until you turn it down. It's cold, and I'm not coming back out in the cold because you didn't do what you said you were going to do." I watched as Bobby moved his large frame into the doorway, pushing himself into the house.

"Hey, sorry, I just was thinking the music was loud." Bobby said, and I could tell he was in the room where everything was happening. "I was thinking you could turn it back by 8 notches or so." Bobby said.

"8, there are 8 of them, including the kid with the gun." Logan supplied, translating Bobby's last remark.

"Hey, is she OK?" Bobby asked, and I knew he was referring to the girl named Dee. Jake had said that she was unconscious.

"Can I just, uh, right, so take it easy." Bobby was saying.

"Well she's got a pulse." Bobby said, "nice and strong." He added.

"Who the hell are you?" Rob asked, his words slurring together.

"Just a guy who thought your music was a bit too loud." Bobby supplied.

"You like loud music?" Bobby asked.

I listened to Bobby talking with Rob. I recognized that Bobby had acquired these particular skills a long time ago. Living with his mother was no easy thing. I was certain as a child, Bobby became quite adept at trying to manage her behavior. He would probably try talking with her, much like he was talking with Rob now, try to establish something in common, some rational tie in a completely irrational situation.

"What?" Rob asked. I am sure that in his state, Rob was not exactly following why Bobby was trying to talk to him about loud music.

"Loud music, do you like loud music?" Bobby asked.

Tap.tap.tap. Someone was trying to get Mike Logan's attention.

"You stay right here, for 5 minutes, and then I will come back and get you." Logan said to me.

"Don't put us all in danger, 5 minutes." He said, and I nodded, indicating that I would stay put. I watched Mike leave the car, taking the listening device receiver with him, so I was left sitting in silence.

I leaned back against the car seat and closed my eyes. I could imagine Bobby inside fishing for a connection, any connection with Rob. As soon as he had that connection, Bobby would try to talk Rob down, into giving him the gun, into giving up without hurting anyone, without hurting himself. Bobby had established that Dee was probably OK, no one had been hurt yet.

Again, I thought of Bobby as a boy, probably doing the same thing with his mother, probably trying to find a connection with her, to talk her through, or away from, her delusions. In a larger sense, I thought of Bobby simply trying to find any connection with her. She was his mother, he probably struggled his entire life trying to connect with her. I wondered if he could find a connection with Rob.

I opened my eyes and realized my cell phone was beside me. I picked it up and left messages on both my sister and my brother-n-law's phones. I did not know what to say, so I said that Jake's friend Rob had tried to commit suicide, and that Jake was there, that they needed to catch the first flight home. I knew it was not completely the truth, but I really hoped it would be the truth by the time they arrived home.

I could see Mike Logan talking with two other NYPD officers outside of the van. I could see their breath frosting in the cold night air. Two more cars pulled silently to the curb without lights. I could see what I thought to be ESU officers getting out. They would have a sharp shooter with them, someone to take out Rob in the event things turned in that direction.

I felt sick. I was sick with worry for my nephew, I was sick that my sister was thousands of miles away, I was sick that Bobby had gone inside.

Tap. tap. tap. Mike Logan was back at the car, he held up his hand, indicating 5 more minutes. I didn't know that I had any choice but to sit there. So, I nodded. I held my phone in my hand, knowing there was someone else I wanted to call. I had to leave a message for that person as well, but as I was hanging up my cell phone, Mike Logan opened the car door and motioned for me to follow him. A larger van had pulled up a bit behind us, and he opened the door and let me inside. I realized that there were now two vans full of officers listening to Bobby inside the house.

"Did you know, did you know she was cheating on me? The whole fucking world knew and no one told me." Rob was yelling a bit incoherently at Bobby.

"You know women, they cheat." Bobby replied, and I knew that was it, that was the connection, that was what Rob needed, someone to agree with him.

My brain was still violently jumping from thought to thought. I thought of Bobby doing this each day, crawling into someone's psyche, looking for a vulnerability, a way to connect, to bring them around, to talk them down, to get them to confess. He probably never managed this with his mother, this entre' into her mind. It was probably what drove him to this job, propelled him into his style of detective work, of interacting with others.

"Yeah, women, they cheat, cheaters all of them." Rob responded. My brain refocused on the house, on Jake in the house, on the safety of the people in the house, on Bobby's voice inside the house. And, I prayed to myself, that the message I had left for my sister would be the truth.

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**A/N:** _Thanks for reading and reviewing! As always, please let me know what you think._


	12. Chapter 12

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." It was Rob's voice, broken, sobbing.

"They cheat, all of them."Rob repeated the words, hysterical. Then, all I could hear was shuffling and movement.

"Clear. All clear." It was Bobby's voice, giving the all clear. And, it was done, just like that. Bobby had found the connection, he found the breaking point, he turned the situation – just like that.

Through my vantage point in the van, I could see two ESU officers entering the home, followed by Logan. I moved to exit the van, knowing that I needed to get to Jake, I needed to see him, to look at him. When I hit the ground and moved toward the house, I could see other parents as well. I had not even realized that they were there.

I could see what I assumed to be the owners of the house trying to press by two uniformed officers. A girl appeared in the doorway, and rushed into their arms. She was followed by two other girls, who also went to their parents. Then, Jake came out, and I stepped forward. He sprinted the short distance to me and threw himself into my arms. He had me by 5 inches and 50 pounds, but I held him close, tight, just like I had when he was a little boy.

"You're fine. It's fine. You're fine." I was saying the words softly, watching over his shoulder as EMTs entered the house, to check on the girl named Dee. As they went in, two others teenagers came out, a girl and a boy, he had his arm around her protectively, and again parents were there.

"It's fine." I continued to say the words as I hugged Jake hard in my arms. I watched Bobby come out and motion two other NYPD officers toward the back of the house. It occurred to me that they were planning to bring Rob out the back entrance, avoiding all of the teenagers, all of the parents. Bobby looked at me, and I mouthed the words clearly, slowly - _thank you_, _thank you_.

Bobby paused on the steps for a moment, and nodded in my direction. My nephew was safe, all these kids were safe, because of Bobby.

"I just, I just need to go say something to Beth." Jake pulled back a bit, and looked around. I watched him find a slender blonde girl with his eyes. She was in her mother's arms, tears sliding down her cheeks. I walked over with Jake, to stand nearby. When Beth saw him, she released her mother and jumped into Jake's arms.

"Oh my god. Oh my god." She was saying, crying. I watched Jake hold her close, burying her face into his shoulder.

"You're fine. We're fine." He repeated the words of comfort I had for him, to her. She was nodding, as if trying to convince herself. Her mother was crying, her father had his arm around her mother. I was standing aside, my arms wrapped around my body, partly for warmth, partly to steady myself.

I realized my phone was ringing in my pocket, the soft ding-dong-ding-dong ring tone. I pulled it out and could see it was my sister calling.

"Hi. Yeah, he's fine, he's right here." I said into the phone. My sister was frantic, and she did not know the half of what had happened.

"He's fine. He's with me." I said, my sister not making much sense. I could hear her talking to her husband, I could tell they were at the ticket counter getting a return flight home.

"Jake, honey, it's your mom." I hated to interrupt, but my sister needed to hear his voice. He said something to Beth, and sent her back to her parents.

I held the phone down, covering the mouthpiece with my hand.

"She doesn't know everything. I left her a message about Rob trying to kill himself. I told her you were fine, that's all she knows. She's on her way home, we can tell her the rest when we see her."

"Mom. Yeah, yeah I'm with Aunt Lucy. Yeah, I'm fine. Yeah, Rob, he didn't do it." Jake was saying softly, I could see his hand starting to shake as he held the phone. "He didn't do it." Jake repeated, his voice breaking a bit. He handed me the phone.

"We're boarding, we're boarding now. I'll be home in a few hours." My sister was saying, thinking she was still speaking with Jake.

"OK. Jake will be with me at my place. Come to my place." I said to my sister. "He's fine. My place." I said, and I could hear her hang up the phone.

"He didn't do it." Jake said to me, not completely making sense. Jake was shaking, his eyes were wet with tears. Again, I pulled him tight to me. I looked around, the EMTs were bringing Dee out, she was conscious, trying to pull off the oxygen mask, struggling a bit on the stretcher. Then I watched her mom come to her side, grab her hand.

"Dr. Jones." A uniform was standing next to me. "Detective Goren asked that I take you home." The officer said. I nodded, and Jake and I followed him to a patrol car.

"He was amazing. I don't even think anyone realized he was a cop until that last minute." Jake was saying about Bobby as we walked to the car.

"He just kind of came in, and got Rob's attention, and kept it from the rest of us. He just kind of came in and saved us." Jake slid into the patrol car. I sat close beside him on the seat.

"Yeah, he's pretty amazing." I said, thinking about Bobby, thinking Bobby was probably seeing this thing through by staying with Rob as they took him into the station.

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Once we arrived to my home, I settled Jake into my guest room. I was awake for a while, listening to him thrash around in bed. Then finally, I could no longer hear him. I went to the door and opened it a bit, and looked at him asleep. His back was facing me, and I stood and watched his even, deep breathing. I thanked god that he was OK. Softly, I closed the door.

I was standing in the kitchen when my phone rang. I could see it was 4:30am, and I didn't think that my sister's plane could have possibly landed. Her flight was scheduled to get in near 6:00am. I looked at the caller ID and could see Emil's cell phone number. I remembered I had called him from the patrol car and left a message. I though the message was fairly cryptic, it was simply that I needed him, and that he should call me as soon as possible. I couldn't remember if I had said anything more.

"Hello." I answered my phone.

"Lucy. I'm minutes away from your place." He said, now knowing I was home, he was calling me on my home phone.

"I've been trying to call you on your cell all night, it has been going to voice mail." Emil offered. I could hear the concern in his voice.

"I was in Connecticut, I didn't get your message until a little over an hour ago." He kept talking, and I realized that I had started shivering. Just hearing his voice brought back everything I had been feeling when I left him the first voice mail.

"Lucy?" Emil said my name, making me realize that I hadn't said anything past _hello_.

"Lucy. I'm out front. Come to the door." Emil was talking to me, the deep timbre of his voice so familiar.

I walked to the front door and threw the locks. I barely realized I still held my house phone in my hands. As soon as I had the door open, he he grabbed me up into his arms. I was shaking violently, starting to cry.

"I've got you." He spoke very softly, holding me so tight against him I could barely breathe. He was stroking my hair, my back.

"I've got you." He said. I dropped the phone onto the hallway floor and wrapped my arms as tight as I could around him.

"Jake called me, he said a friend was trying to commit suicide, he said he had a gun, there were other kids there, he was holding them all." I was talking into Emil's coat, which was now wet from my tears.

"Jake's fine, he's upstairs asleep. Everyone is fine." I was saying, except me apparently, I was not fine. I was actually surprised at how not fine I was feeling. I guess up until this point I had been running on adrenaline. Something about the familiar sound of Emil's voice, something about the safety of his embrace. All at once, he made me feel safe, while opening me up to feeling vulnerable.

"I know, I've got you." He said, holding me.

"You know?" I sniffed, I looked up at him, and he brushed some of the tears away from my cheeks.

"Your message, you said you needed me, you said Jake was being held hostage by a suicidal friend." Emil offered, and I remembered, I remembered I had said that. I had meant to say more, to give Emil the address where I was, but Mike Logan had returned to the car and I had hung up my phone.

"When I received your message, and I couldn't get in touch with you, and I didn't know where to go, I made some phone calls and figured out what was going on." Emil tucked my hair behind my ears, still softly touching my face.

"Oh my god, I was so scared." I put my face against his chest.

"Jake's upstairs, asleep?" Emil asked, holding me.

"Yeah, it took him a while, but he's asleep." I offered. Slowly, as Emil held me, I stopped trembling. Finally, I released him so he could take his coat off.

"Have you slept?" Emil asked, looking at me.

"No, I couldn't sleep. I was listening to Jake, then I was standing in the kitchen, then you came in." I said, realizing that there was a lot of lost time that had elapsed between those things.

"What's happening, what's happening with that kid Rob?" I asked, remembering that Emil had called a friend in NYPD.

"He's at the hospital being evaluated. I think they pumped his stomach." Emil was still looking at me. I could see the concern etched in his face.

"You look exhausted." He said. I was nodding, I felt exhausted.

"My sister should be here in a few hours. She was in California. They were headed to Hawaii in a few days…" I started to say.

He was nodding, kind of leading me upstairs. I knew he thought I should try to lie down, try to catch a little sleep before dawn.

"I'd like to shower." I said, my voice quiet, a little hoarse from lack of sleep. I watched him smile. I knew that he knew that I could stand in a hot shower forever. It was my way of washing away the day.

"I'll be downstairs. Maybe I will make some coffee." He said, and I watched him turn to go.

"I'm glad that you're here." I said, causing him to stop and turn around to face me.

"I'm glad that I'm here." He said, nodding.


	13. 14 minus 1

When I got out of the shower, I felt a lot better. Clean body, clean hair, clean clothes, I was ready to begin a different day. As I walked by the guest room, I could see that the door was opened, and realized that Jake was probably down stairs. I could smell coffee, and knew that Emil had been true to his word. Even though I did not especially like coffee, I kept a nice coffee pot and fresh coffee on hand. My friend Annie loved coffee, as did my sister.

As I neared the kitchen I could hear the voices. I couldn't hear all of what they were saying, but it was clear to me that Jake was opening up a bit about what had happened the night before. Jake had known Emil for years, so it made sense to me that he would talk to Emil. They had a good rapport, and at age 17, Jake probably found it easier to talk with Emil, or myself, over his parents.

To give them a bit more privacy, I did not walk into the kitchen, instead I walked toward the foyer, thinking to turn on the porch light. If their plane had landed on time, I figured my sister and her husband would be to the house soon. Sure enough, I could see a cab out front. My sister was on her way up the front steps while my brother-n-law paid the cab driver. They did not have any luggage with them, I was fairly positive their luggage had stayed in California.

I opened the door and let my sister inside.

"Jake is in the kitchen." I said, and she kissed me quickly and slid right by me. My brother-n-law was close behind her.

I shut and locked the door behind them and walked toward the kitchen, where my sister was now hugging her tall, teen-aged son, who was looking very happy to be with his mom and dad. I thought about the strange age of 17, where sometimes parents were the last people they wanted to see, and other times parents were the most important people. I thought about last night, how every single kid there had been very happy to see their parents.

"Laura, Bruce." Emil smiled, standing, saying hello to my sister and her husband.

"Emil." Laura said, and if she was surprised to see him standing in my kitchen so early in the morning, she did not show it.

"Can we go home?" Jake asked. He had only slept a few hours, and I felt fairly certain he simply wanted to go home to his bed.

"Yes, yes, we can go home." Laura said, still holding onto Jake. I placed my car keys in my brother-n-laws hand. I had anticipated that they would want to go home and huddle like a family in their house. I knew my sister would call me later in the day, especially after Jake confided in them more details about what had happened.

Laura let go of Jake long enough to hug me tight. _Thank you_, she whispered into my ear, and I nodded. When she released me, Jake squeezed the breath out of me, hugging me as well. Then to my surprise, and my sister's surprise, Jake hugged Emil and said something about how great it was to see him. It occurred to me, among all the chaos, that Laura would likely be calling me about Emil as well.

I followed them to the front door, let them go. I stood listening to Bruce start my car, and I watched them pull away from the curb. Emil walked up behind me, placing his arms around me, kissing me lightly on the neck. He let me go as I turned to face him.

"I know this is a bad time, and I know we won't talk about this now, but I have to say it." He said, his tone serious, earnest. My brain thought of all the things he might say to me. I wondered how much he knew about last night. I wondered who he had spoken with in NYPD. Did he know that I had been at a restaurant with Bobby Goren when I had received the call from Jake? I still wondered if he knew that I had served as the pscyh evaluator as part of Bobby's disciplinary action. I wondered what he was about to say to me.

"I want to see you again. Only you. And, I only want you to see me." He said, nearly knocking me down with surprise.

I could barely believe his words. I knew that he had been in Connecticut when he received my voice mail, I knew who he was seeing in Connecticut, and it was not _only me_. But I wasn't about to take that up with him, when he was taking anything up with me. That could wait.

"You need to get some sleep." He said, and kissed me on my temple. "I will call you later today." He said, and grabbed his coat off the foyer bench.

"Promise me." He said, looking at me. Promise him what, I was thinking. Promise him that I will see only him? My voice was caught in my chest. I loved him, I was in love with him, but I was so very tired of the constant push and pull with him. So, I had this connection with someone else, an undefined connection, but something all the same. And, suddenly here Emil was saying what I had wanted him to say to me a few months ago. And, here I was unable to speak.

"Promise me you will get some sleep." He said, causing my random thoughts to stop a bit. I nodded, I could promise him that. I was exhausted. I locked the door behind him, and I watched him go down my front walk and get into his car.

I was in the kitchen putting the two coffee cups into the sink, turning off the coffee pot, when there was a knock at my door. I wondered if Emil had forgotten something, or maybe Laura had. I was surprised to see the large outline of Bobby Goren standing on my doorstep. I didn't even know he knew where I lived. As I walked to my front door, I smiled over my silliness. He was a NYPD detective, easy enough to figure out where I lived.

"Bobby." I said, as I opened the door. I could see a large, dark, square car near the curb, engine running, what I thought to be Detective Mike Logan at the wheel.

"Hi, I, uh." Bobby started to say, looking at me. "I just, um." He started to say again, standing awkwardly in my doorway. I thought for a moment that he looked as if he wanted to touch me, to make a connection with me.

"We've caught a case." He gestured to the car where Detective Logan was waiting.

"Can I call you, later?" He asked. I was nodding, not sure my voice would work.

"You're OK." Bobby asked, or actually stated, more like an observation. Again, I was nodding.

"Good, that's good." He said, "that you're OK." He said.

"And Jake, Jake's OK." He said. Again, I nodded.

"I'll call you." He said, still looking at me. Again I could feel that something between us, undefined. I watched him return to the car with Detective Logan. And, for what felt like the millionth time this morning, I closed my front door, throwing the locks. I could feel it, the emotions inside me, the thoughts in my mind, push pull, push pull. Where was this going to take me? Or maybe, I tried to correct myself, where should I take this?

* * *

**A/N:** _I don't know why - chapter "13" is always daunting to me. So, this is "14-1". Chapter 13 tends to be the point where I wonder if I should keep posting... what do you think, are you invested enough to read more?_


	14. Chapter 14

Phone. Ringing. Ring. Ring. Ring. The sound was extremely slow in penetrating my sleep. But eventually I struggled across the bed and grabbed the phone awkwardly off the hook.

"Hello," (ahem), I tried the word again, "hello."

"Lucy?" It was Annie. Of all the people who said they would call "later", Annie was not one of them. In fact I realized I hadn't talked to her in the past 24 hours, so she had no idea about anything that was going on.

"Hi, Annie." I said, sitting up, looking at the bright sunlight. It was just after noon. I had been asleep for about 4 hours. My head hurt, that kind of sleep hangover hurt, where you haven't had enough sleep so you are sleeping during the wrong part of the day.

"Were you asleep?" Annie asked.

"Yeah, very asleep." I answered, still a bit groggy.

"Are you sick?" Annie clearly sounded confused.

"No, just a crazy 24 hours." I admitted, reaching for the bottle of water I had left on my bed side table.

"Really?" She asked, in that did you go out and have too much to drink type tone.

"Not crazy like that." I drank some of the water. "Crazy in that I can't believe that actually happened in my life kind of way." I set the bottle of water down, and started to share the details with Annie.

"Oh my god." She said, and I thought that was the phrase that summed everything up. She said the words, and I could practically hear Rob saying them, his voice broken and crying; I could hear my nephew saying them, his voice disbelieving; I could hear my sister saying them, her voice full of concern; and I could hear myself saying them, my voice full of prayer that everything would be OK.

"Yeah. Oh my god." I said, wondering what she would react to first – Jake's ordeal, Bobby's part in it, the fact that I almost kissed Bobby, the part about Emil telling me he wanted to be with me, only me, or the part about my head spinning so fast I could barely tell which way was up.

I appreciated that while I had been talking, Annie had shown the perfect amount of empathy, with the right mix of mild humor to lighten up my mood and keep me talking. And in the end, this is what she said to me.

"I love you Lucy." She said the words in that way that only a best friend for practically your entire life can say to you and make you realize that life is probably going to be OK.

Though, as if I were talking with my sister, part of me waited for the "but." You know the one, the "but" that transitions to the tidy piece of advice, like _but what were you thinking when you were about to kiss Bobby_; or the _but Emil is saying the right thing, I just hope he doesn't hurt you again_; or the _but you said this Bobby guy has kind of had a rough year, is he really available to anyone for anything or is he simply trying to figure out a way to connect and feel a part of this earth again_. Well, maybe the last one was what I was thinking, but the first two were things that Annie could have definitely said. But, she didn't say them.

"Do you want me to come over?" Annie asked.

"No, really, I'm OK." I said, thinking she was an incredible friend.

"Tomorrow, breakfast?" She asked.

"Absolutely." I replied, realizing that tomorrow was Saturday and not a work day for Annie. So, we said our _see you tomorrows_.

Strangely enough, after talking with Annie, I ended up getting dressed and going to the market. There was nothing like a little something normal to clear the mind. I took my time browsing through produce, progressing slowly through the bakery, I even stopped and collected some fresh flowers (no lilies) to put in a face on my front hall table. It was nearing dusk as I walked the few blocks home, two sacks of groceries in hand. The day was much warmer than last night had been, it was still cold, but the sun was bright and there was no wind, so the walk felt good.

I was surprised to see someone sitting on my doorstep.When I walked up, my surprise deepened as I recognized Bobby.

"Hey." I said, watching him jump a bit, surprised that I had startled him. He looked weary, unshaven, hair disheveled. I remembered that morning he had said he had caught a case, so I knew that he hadn't slept in almost 32 hours.

"Hey." He said, rubbing his eyes with the bottoms of his palms.

"Would you like to come in?" I asked, gesturing to the door to my house.

"I have dinner." I referred to the bags of groceries. I had purchased a large container of potato soup and a nice loaf of bread.

"Yeah." He stood, taking the groceries from me. I moved to walk in front of him and opened the door. He followed me into the kitchen, setting the groceries onto the counter.

"Please, sit." I gestured to the table, pulling some things out of the bag, some bowls out of my cabinet.

"You said you caught a case." I mentioned, pulling spoons out of a drawer.

"With Logan, where is Eames?" I asked, reaching for a bread knife and cutting board.

"She took some personal days." He said, as I placed a glass of ice water in front of him, and put the bread onto the cutting board, and placed that on the table. I looked at him for a moment.

"Personal days." I repeated the phrase, knowing that was code for unscheduled leave. "I hope everything is OK."

"Yeah, her nephew is getting his tonsils out. Outpatient surgery, but she's helping out her sister." He offered, taking me a bit by surprise. I didn't know what I thought he would say when he said she took some personal days. I thought maybe it was related to him somehow. I still sensed in as much they were excellent partners, they were experiencing some differences. I knew, for example, that Eames was feeling a bit exasperated by Bobby's closed off behavior. It was hard to support someone when they wouldn't let you near them.

"How's your hand." I asked, realizing I was a bit tired myself, not really filtering my own thoughts. Normally, as tired as I knew he was, I would have tabled that remark for some other time.

"It's OK." He looked at his knuckles as I placed napkins and spoons on the table.

"Did you call her, did you call your partner the next day?" I asked. He looked at me, watching me place a bowl of soup in front of him, sitting down across from him with my own bowl of soup and glass of water.

"No." He admitted.

"It's hard, calling someone, sometimes." I fiddled with my spoon.

"It's hard to do the right thing, and tell someone where you stand." I said, not really knowing if I was talking to him about him, or talking to him about me.

"I guess." He said, eating.

"She was concerned, for you, you know." I offered, wondering how he would take my interference. He ate for a while, not responding.

"Yeah, I know." He said, finally.

"And you?" He asked.

"Me what?"

"Are you concerned for me?" He asked. He did not ask the question lightly, and he was not flirting with me, or fishing for my feelings. He was asking me, if I was concerned for him, concerned in a significant way that should have him concerned about himself.

"No, I'm not concerned for you. Are you concerned for you?" I asked, my voice very soft.

"Not when I'm this tired." He replied, turning the tone of the conversation.

"What are we doing?" I asked.

"Eating dinner." He replied. And, I left it alone. I didn't know what I expected him to say. But a large part of me wanted him to tell me what he was feeling. Though, that would have been a bit out of the ordinary for him. He had the ability to study someone else, and discuss at great length what they were feeling, what they were thinking, what was motivating them. But when it came to himself, he rarely discussed how he was feeling. He tended to show how he was feeling in the way he was acting.

"Right." I smiled.

"Bobby." I continued, "thanks for last night, thanks for…" I didn't know what else to say.

"Its my job." He replied, looking at me. I remembered what I had thought as I listened to him talking with Rob, trying to connect with such a troubled kid, trying to do it quickly to resolve an impossible situation. He was right it was his job, but it was more than that, much more.

"I should, uh, go." He said, looking at me. "Get some, um, sleep." He offered, standing. I stood as well, clearing the bowls into the sink.

"I just, that is, I just wanted." He said, looking at me, kind of studying me. He seemed to stammer the worst through words when he was trying to express something that he hadn't quite thought through.

"I'm OK." I replied, and he smiled, tilting his head a bit, in a way that was becoming familiar to me.

"OK." He said. "Thanks for dinner."

"Anytime." I said, and I didn't say it casually. He nodded, indicating he knew what I meant; he knew that my door was open to him.

"Thanks." He mumbled the word this time, without looking at me.

"I have this thing, Sunday, that I need to uh, that I should, um…" He started to say, and I listened.

"That I need to do." He kind of completed his thought. "I was thinking that maybe, you could, or that you would…" He started to say.

"Call me." I said, not even knowing what he was talking about, but knowing that I would be there for whatever it was. He was so full of contradiction. At times, he practically radiated need, a vulnerability that drew you in, but at the same time he managed to keep people at a distance.

"OK." He smiled that somewhat lopsided smile. "I'll call you." He said. I nodded and followed him to the door.

"Good night." I said to him.

"I hope so." He mumbled. I stood at my door and watched him go down my front walk and get into his car.

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**A/N:** _Thanks for getting me past my "chapter 13" :)_


	15. Chapter 15

The only reason I was at all prepared for where I was meeting Bobby was that to figure out the best way to get there, I had to look up the address he had e-mailed me. He had asked me to meet him on Sunday at 4:00pm, for maybe an hour or so, at what turned out to be a cemetery. I didn't call him out on not mentioning the place, I guessed he was visiting his mother's grave, and I could tell by the lack of information that he provided that he was finding it incredibly difficult.

As I walked through the cemetery entrance, I stopped to pick up a smooth, clean pebble. I held it in my gloved hand, looking at the oval shape against my palm. I ran my thumb across the polished surface as I stood, looking for him. He was not near the entrance, he had not specified where I was supposed to meet him, and I was actually about 15 minutes early.

So I walked along a path, looking at some of the head stones, thinking about the convention of graveyards, and families and loved ones visiting grave sites. Some found comfort in visiting with the dead, some found it incredibly difficult, and some found it both difficult and comforting all at the same time.

I walked for a few minutes, considering heading back to the entrance. As I looked around, I realized I could see his tall, broad frame silhouetted against the grey winter sky. He was standing off the path, his head down, his hands kind of clasped in front of him. He looked very solemn, very still. I paused to take it in, thinking it was not often I did not see him in motion, moving his hands in some way.

"Bobby." After I had made my way over to where he was standing, I softly laid my hand on his arm. I had assumed correctly, it was his mother's grave that he was visiting. I could see on the head stone that today was her birthday, which explained a bit why he was visiting on this day.

"I remember this one birthday, my dad, he was still living with us." Bobby started talking like I had been standing with him the whole time.

"He brought her flowers. He never really had ever done that, bring her flowers. She seemed so happy, she kissed him." Bobby continued talking, he continued to stand very still, hands clasped in front of him.

"I'd never seen her do that, kiss him, kiss my father." Bobby breathed, deeply, a bit shaky.

"I followed her into the kitchen, she said she wanted to put the flowers in water. She was cutting off the blossoms." He said, "not the stems, you know, how you cut the stems so they are fresh, she was cutting off the blossoms, and kind of placing the stems into the vase."

"I didn't understand, I didn't understand what she was doing. But I understood enough to not say anything." He did not look at me, but I could see his breathing, more uneven, more ragged. I placed my arm around him. My arm barely reached, but I kind of pulled him close to me, as best I could. We stood there a while, in silence, Bobby looking down at the ground, his hands so still in front of him.

"She left the kitchen, without saying a word to me. I looked at the blossoms spread out over the counter. I touched the crinkly green paper that had been wrapped around the flowers. And, a small card caught my eye. The card was not for her. It had another woman's name." He kind of shrugged a bit. I was speechless. I had thought this was a story about his mother's illness, instead it was about his cheating father. We stood for a while, in silence, with my arm around him as I kind of leaned against his shoulder.

"Thanks, thanks for meeting me here." He said, after a while, looking at me. I simply nodded. I could sense he was ready to go. So, I stepped forward and placed the smooth pebble I held in my hand on the top of the grave stone.

He looked at the pebble for a moment, and then looked at me.

"Are you Jewish?" He asked.

"My grandmother was." I replied. He nodded, and I could tell he was filing this piece of information away in whatever _Lucy Jones_ script he had created in his brain. I wondered, for a moment, what other tidbits he had filed away about me.

"Thirsty?" He asked, as we walked along the path leading back out of the cemetery. I said yes, knowing he was inviting me someplace for a drink.

* * *

"An Irish coffee please." I was still cold from being outside, and I was still emotionally reeling from the last few days, so an Irish coffee seemed perfect. Bobby smiled, and he looked like he was going to laugh. 

"I'll have the same, but forget the coffee." Bobby ordered, causing the server to smile.

"Do you even like coffee?" He asked.

"Not often." I admitted, but I liked all the fixings associated with Irish coffee.

The server was back in a flash, with my drink topped with a heap of whipped cream, and his whiskey, served neat in a highball. I watched him drink practically the entire contents in one swallow, and motion for another before I had even touched the whipped cream.

"So, what're going to do with that?" He teased me about the frothy concoction in front of me.

"Drink it." I said, smiling.

"How?" He asked, referring to the whipped cream on top. I reached out and scooped up some whipped cream onto a spoon and popped it into my mouth.

"It's the best part." I said, referring to the sweet cream.

"This is the best part." He countered, taking the rest of his whiskey down in a single swallow.

"You don't know what you're missing." I scooped up a large portion of the whipped cream onto my spoon and held it out to him. He surprised me by taking me up on my offer and he ate the whipped cream off my spoon, licking his lips thoughtfully.

"I guess that's pretty good." He said, smiling at me. I liked his smile. I stirred the rest of the whipped cream into the coffee and took a sip, letting the hot coffee with the touch of whiskey warm my insides.

"So your grandmother was Jewish." Bobby said, taking a sip of his second drink.

"On my mom's side." I offered, "but she didn't raise my mom Jewish, mom was raised kind of without much religion, I think. So, when she married dad, who was Catholic, mom kind of went with that. So my sister and I were Catholic school girls." I continued, and without much prodding from him, I ended up talking about myself for the next hour or so.

"Can I get you another?" The server came by, noticing I had finally finished my coffee. Since I was doing most of the talking, it took me a while to finish my first drink. And I realized, since Bobby was doing most of the listening he had managed to drink quite a few drinks.

"I, uh," I said, and glanced at my watch.

"You said you were having dinner at your sister's." Bobby offered, and pulled out some cash to pay the check.

"I can call her, I could stay." I offered. He shook his head no. I watched him stand, pausing for a moment before picking up his coat. I guessed he was a little drunk, nothing to eat, too much to drink.

"You're always telling me I need to sleep. Well I need to sleep, tomorrows another week." He allowed. He helped me on with my coat, and followed me closely as we left the restaurant.

"Let me give you a ride home." I turned, realizing I had turned into his arms. I looked up into his eyes. I stood, not moving, waiting to see what he would do with me standing so close. I wanted to know what he wanted from me.

"Uh, no, that's OK, I, uh, live the other way." He said, and he was right, he did live in the opposite direction.

"I will, um, catch a cab." His voice barely above a whisper. He stood very still, looking at me.

As I stood, looking up into his eyes, I suddenly I realized I was being selfish. I wanted him to express something to me, when in fact he already had in his way told me what he wanted from me on this particular day. He had wanted me to go with him to visit his mother's grave. He had wanted me to join him for a drink, and talk with him while he got a little drunk. And by the way he had kept me talking, he had wanted me to talk about my nice, neat, normal childhood so he could maybe get a little lost in my memories instead of obsessing about his own.

"Thanks," I smiled, "for the coffee," I took an ever so slight step away and fished my keys from my pocket.

"Lucy…" He said my name, as if to say something, I waited a moment, maybe he was going to ask me to stay, or perhaps take me up on the offer to take him home.

"Say hello to your family for me." He said, and I nodded. I recognized he had done something gigantic by sharing this day with someone, and for him to reach out further was probably completely out of his current emotional repertoire.

"I will." I looked at the keys in my hand.

"Call me." I said the words, in the same why I had said them before, as in call me anytime.

He watched me walk the short distance to my car, and before he got into the cab that had stopped for him, he stood to make sure my car started, and then he watched me pull away from the curb.

When I stopped at the stop sign about a block away, I leaned forward, placing my head against my steering wheel. I closed my eyes for a moment, concentrating on breathing. I was struggling, trying to find the right path. A horn honking behind me reminded me that my immediate path was to go to my sister's for dinner. So, I looked both ways across the intersection, and continued on my way.

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**A/N:** _Wow, thanks for all the reviews. I love to know that people are reading_. 


	16. Chapter 16

At what point in our lives do we start thinking about what we are feeling and stop feeling? I think I was probably about 20-something, headed off to graduate school. I don't think I quite realized then that I was headed into a life for myself where I encouraged people to think about their feelings.

In my field, I realized that some colleagues viewed me as a bit unconventional. I think that is always the way when a new generation in any field begins to become the "current generation." My unconventional side was that, on occasion, when appropriate, I encouraged people to simply feel what they were feeling and try not to over think it too much. After years in practice, I appreciate that the majority of people seek counsel, whether that counsel be someone like me, or a religious figure, or a parent, because they are out of touch with how they are feeling. And, even when some asks, "how do you feel about that" what they are really asking, oftentimes, is "think about how you feel about that." So, think, think, think.

After spending the evening at my sister's, watching Jake with his girlfriend Beth, it occurred to me that here are two people who are so busy feeling, they do not spend much time thinking. After what they had gone through the other night with their friend Rob, they spent the evening always maintaining some kind of touch, whether it be their finger tips, their knees, or just flat out with their arms around one another. Though part of me thought that all of the feeling and touching is just generally the way of adolescence, and that maybe it should be the way we all choose occasionally.

So, as I was on my way home from my sister's, I found myself not on my way home at all. I found myself, standing on his doorstep, unannounced. I stood for a moment, practically saying the words out loud to myself, stop thinking, stop thinking. I reached up and knocked, and stood, closing my eyes, just breathing, just feeling. If I would like to know how I feel, perhaps I should simply feel.

I heard the door open, and I opened my looking up at him. I could see the surprise on his face, in his eyes. And, I thought for a moment that he was going to say something, but I did not want to talk. I was always talking, getting people to talk. So, I stepped forward, threaded my arms around his neck, pulled myself to him and kissed him. For a moment he stayed straight, stunned really, that I should be standing there kissing him. But then, I could feel him soften against me, and he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me up a bit off my feet, kissing me in return, bringing me inside.

He kicked the door closed with his foot, not letting me out of his arms, out of his touch. We stopped kissing long enough for him to set me gently onto my feet, push my coat off my shoulders onto the floor. He was wearing a black t-shirt and loose pants, his feet were bare. He looked incredibly sexy. He deftly undid the buttons on my shirt while I stepped out of my shoes and slid my pants off over my hips, until I was standing in his entry way in my plum colored underthings. I could see him breathe in, sharply, as he looked at me. Then he moved me backward against the wall, his thumbs pressing into my hips, his lips crushed against mine. He ran his strong hands upward across my ribs until his arms were back around me, and he brought me back to his bedroom.

I pushed his t-shirt off, over his head, and pushed his pants off down to the floor. I ran my hands upward across his chest, to his throat, our eyes meeting for just a moment, as if to make sure we both definitely wanted this.

He tossed me lightly onto the bed, my nails dragging down his back, leaving light red welts in their wake. I definitely wanted this. I closed my eyes, and stopped thinking all together.

Near 4:00 in the morning, when I stood up out of bed, he was sound asleep. He was laying on his front, I could see his back rising and falling with the deep breathing of sleep. I watched him for a moment, thinking about how sleep resets the soul. I wondered how he would feel when he woke up in a few hours, what he would think about me coming by. I quietly gathered my things, realizing the rest were in the front hall.

"Where're you going." He mumbled, turning his head on the pillow, looking at me through sleepy eyes.

"I have a 7:00am." I said, every Monday I had early hours. I needed to get home to shower and change. I watched him close his eyes again. His breathing immediately returned to deep sleep. And, I wondered if he would remember me telling him I had to go.

In the shower, at my house, I looked down across my body. I could see faint bruises on my hips and remembered his thumbs pressing against me as he pinned me backward, kissing me, against the wall. I knew my feelings for him, so clear to me. I couldn't seem to stop myself from again thinking about his feelings for me. So, I was back to thinking again.

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**_A/N:_** _Think, think, think. Don't we all think too much?_ _So, what do you think about this..._


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N:** _A change in point of view, this chapter and the next one are from Laura Jones (Lucy's sister). I'm drawing on a little life experience for this one…_

* * *

"Hi Helen." I walked into Lucy's reception area, surprised to find Helen at the desk. I knew my sister's office-type manager, mainly from her voice on the phone. 

"Hello Ms. Jones." Helen responded with a smile. She sounded like one of my kindergartners, calling me Ms. Jones.

"Is Dr. Jones expecting you?" Helen asked, after consulting what I assumed to be my sister's schedule. And, if I thought her calling me Ms. Jones sounded strange, my little sister Lucy being referred to as Dr. Jones sounded even stranger.

"No, but she mentioned she did not have any appointments today between 2:00 and 4:00, so I thought maybe I could catch her." I offered.

"Sure." Helen again smiled at me, and picked up her phone to let Lucy know I was there.

"Laura." Lucy was at her door in a matter of moments, her smile was huge, welcoming. If she felt inconvenienced by my coming by without calling first, I certainly couldn't see it.

"I know, I probably should have called." I said the words, I couldn't stop myself. I knew that Lucy would call that passive-aggressive, or some other such nonsense.

"No, no, I mentioned I didn't have any appointments this afternoon." Lucy said, stepping aside so I could precede her into her office. It really was quite nice. I had not been to her office in quite some time, and she had made some changes. I still couldn't really fathom that she was a professional, with an office, with what I realized to be an amazing view of the city.

"Are you going to take the whole week off." Lucy asked me. I had arranged for a week-long substitute teacher for my kindergarten class. Originally, I was supposed to be in Hawaii all week with my husband, Bruce, but with everything that had happened with Jake, we had cancelled the vacation. But, I had decided to keep with the week off work anyway.

"Yeah." I replied. "I had arranged for everything at school, and I really like the substitute in my class, so it feels OK."

"That's good, good." Lucy said to me. She was leaning against her desk, smoothing her skirt. I could tell she was distracted by something. She tended to fiddle with her clothes a bit when she was trying to listen but couldn't quite manage it. I think it was one of those things she did, a conscious thing, to remind herself to listen to the person in front of her and not get lost in her own thoughts.

"You know, I haven't had much to eat today. We could go get something, if you like?" She asked me. It was clear to me that she was wondering why I should stop by unannounced. I wasn't exactly the spontaneous type.

"I just wanted to see you, just you and me for a moment." I said, trying to explain why I was there.

"I haven't had a chance to talk with you since this past Thursday, just with you." I offered. Bruce was with me on Friday morning, and last night when she came over for dinner I never quite managed a moment alone with her.

"Oh." Lucy said, looking a bit uncomfortable, or maybe she looked a bit concerned.

"It's not like that." I started to say.

"Though I wish you could have said more to me on the phone about what was happening with Jake. But I realize that there wasn't really the time. But, maybe you could've said more." I rambled a bit, again realizing that I was maybe saying two things at once. I hated that sometimes when I talked with Lucy, I started to try to think like Lucy. With any other person I would not have been at all tangled up in what I was saying, and I would not have been thinking about sending "double messages."

"I'm sorry." Lucy said, completely surprising me. I had expected her to try to explain why it wasn't practical for her to cause me so much concern at such a great distance. And, then I thought Lucy might rationalize that Jake was OK, that everyone was OK. But she didn't say any of those things. She simply apologized to me.

I stood, kind of frozen to the spot, not quite knowing how to respond.

"I should've done that differently. You should've known exactly what you were coming home to. You would've been more prepared for when you talked with Jake." Lucy continued to surprise me. I began to get a little irritated. She was saying to me, what I had come to say to her.

I watched her smooth her skirt again, and then she lifted her hand to her forehead. I noticed that she looked pale. She was trembling slightly and her eyes, well they looked a little spacey. She closed them, pressing the heels of her palms over them. And, in that instant, I knew, I knew the look of her aura, I knew she was about to have a seizure. She had a few when we were girls, and a few times in adolescence. She had never been diagnosed with epilepsy; her seizures were idiopathic and not particularly frequent. But, I had been around her enough to know the look she got just before. I dropped my purse onto the floor and went toward her, knowing she was about to collapse. I didn't quite make it, she fell backward, and I could hear her head smack against the edge of her desk. Then Lucy was on the floor, a grand mal seizure.

"Helen." I called out loudly.

"Call 911." I yelled as Helen appeared in the doorway.

* * *

**A/N**: _So I've been writing a while from Lucy's point of view. Lets take a look at Bobby and Emil (and their relationship with Lucy) from Laura's point of view. Hopefully my story did not just "jump the shark"... (so please, hang in there :)_


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N:** _From__Laura Jones point of view__ (Lucy's sister)_

* * *

"Mom?" Lucy's voice was hoarse, and she was very groggy. I was in the ambulance riding with her speeding along to the hospital. I was concerned about the seizure, but I was just as concerned, or even more so about the knock to her head from the edge of her desk. I had a feeling from the way the EMTs were checking Lucy's eyes, that she had a hell of a concussion. 

"It's Laura." I said, reaching my hand out, touching her forehead like our mother used to do. It made me sad to hear her ask for mom. Our father had died when Lucy was in college, our mother had died about 3 years ago.

"Where's mom?" She asked, her eyes not open. She was disoriented. Mom had always been there, or at least been there soon after the other times Lucy had a seizure.

"It's Laura. Do you know where you are?" I asked, trying to get her to think about the present. I knew in a matter of hours she would probably be a bit more coherent.

"I hit my head." She winced.

"Yeah, yeah you did." I agreed with her. We were pulling into the ambulance bay of the ER, and the EMTs were in motion to get her inside the hospital. I followed along beside as best I could, but once inside, a nurse waylaid me for some basic information.

I tried to provide as much as I could, as quickly as I could. Mainly I just wanted to get back to the exam area with Lucy, and after a few minutes they let me by.

"Mom?" Lucy called for our mother again as I stepped inside the curtain. An ER doctor was examining her, looking at her eyes, examining where she hit her head against the desk.

"It's Laura." I said again, this time she was looking at me, but was not really focused.

The doctor asked me a series of questions, and I gave Lucy's medical history, and history of seizures. I asked about her hitting her head against her desk, and he acknowledged concern about her head wound. He spoke with a nurse, ordering some tests, blood work, etc., and said he would be back in a few minutes.

"I hit my head." She said again.

"Yeah, yeah you did." I said again, wondering when she would stop looping through the same conversation. I was familiar with this as well. I knew she would get her bearings soon enough.

"Can I use this?" I asked the nurse about using the phone. She looked at me for a moment, and finally nodded her head. I had left my purse, including my cell phone, at Lucy's office. I needed to phone my husband Bruce, tell him about Lucy, and ask him to go by and collect my things from her office. My phone call to Bruce was quick enough, but I also needed to call Helen and make certain she was there to so Bruce could get in and get my things.

"Hi Helen, this is Laura Jones." I said, when I heard her voice on the phone.

"Lucy will be fine. She had a seizure, most likely has a concussion, but she will be fine. But, I left my purse there. My husband Bruce will be by to pick it up within the hour. Could you stay until he gets there?" I asked, and then Helen started talking so fast I could barely understand her.

"When you called me to call 911, I was on the phone. And, he heard all of the commotion. I must have hung up on him, and so he came here to see what was going on, he was very agitated." Helen was talking to me, and I was not hearing _the yes I can stay for an hour to give your husband your purse_ reply I had been waiting for, so it took me a minute to catch up to what she was saying.

"Who, who was on the phone?" I asked.

"Detective Goren. He was calling for Dr. Jones." Helen continued. "He showed up here, at the office, with his partner. They looked so official, with their badges. They forced their way into Lucy's office. He was very agitated by the blood, the vomit on the floor. He was demanding to know what had happened, was Lucy injured, where was she, why did I have to call 911, who was with her." Helen kept talking, and I had never realized anyone could talk quite that fast.

"He had on his badge, and his partner, had on her badge. And they were asking me all these questions, and you had just left, and there is blood on the desk and on the floor." Helen kept talking, she was extremely upset.

"I told them, I told them Lucy fell and hit her head, and that I called 911 and they took her to the hospital. I know, I know I'm not supposed to give out that kind of information, you know, health information is protected by all kinds of laws. But, they had on their badges, and he, Detective Goren, just kept asking, and his partner, she was just staring at me." Helen finally took a pause to take a breath.

"Helen." I said her name, "Its OK. Lucy is OK. You're OK. Can you stay another hour or so, my husband will be by to pick up my things." I repeated the question I had originally asked, while I thought about everything she had just said.

"Yes, yes, I can stay." She answered me. "I need to call maintenance. There is blood on the desk and on the floor." She repeated.

"Helen, what else did you say to Detective Goren?" I asked.

"Oh, right, well, he was very agitated," Helen said, she kept using that word, and I couldn't quite imagine what that meant, agitated. How does a detective act agitated?

"He asked me how Lucy hit her head, was she pushed, like attacked or something." Helen said, and I sighed, placing my hand on my forehead.

"Did you explain?" I asked.

"Yes, yes I think so, I said that she fainted, and hit her head." Helen offered. I was about to correct her over the fainting part, but decided it probably was not worth it.

"He's on his way there." Helen said, and I squeezed the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger.

"Thank you. Thank you for waiting for Bruce, he should be there within the hour." I repeated, hoping that Helen had enough composure to remember she needed to wait for Bruce to come by.

"I will cancel Dr. Jones's afternoon appointments. I won't tell anyone else what happened." Helen said, a bit more slowly.

"Good, that sounds good." I said.

"Is there a number where I can reach you later?" I asked, thinking I should call her and check back in, she really did sound quite scattered.

"Oh, yeah." She said and gave me her cell phone number.

"I will call you later this evening and let you know how Lucy is doing." I said.

"OK." Helen said, and I could tell she was distracted by something.

"I will call you later." I repeated.

"Thanks." Helen said, and hung up the phone.

"Ms. Jones?" A nurse came in. "We need to take your sister for some tests, some scans." She said. Lucy was asleep. I nodded; I was familiar with this part as well. I anticipated the usual tests, and hoped for the usual "no apparent cause" for the seizure. At first I remember how deeply frustrated mom was that there was no clear reason. Mom had wanted a reason, a fixable reason. But after a few doctors, mom realized that most reasons for seizures were not readily fixable, so we became comfortable with the "no apparent cause" reason.

When I walked back out in the waiting room area, I could see two NYPD detectives. One of them, a tall, large man, was standing incredibly close to the nurse at the desk, leaning over her in a very intimidating manner. There was also a petite brunette nearby, with her badge neatly displayed, watching what had to be her partner, Detective Goren.

"Patient Lucy Jones. I need her status, and her location." He was saying, his hands were clenched at his sides.

"Detective Goren." I said his name, he turned around so quickly he practically knocked me down.

"I'm Laura Jones, Lucy's sister." I looked up at him, and I fully understood what it looked like to be agitated.

Bobby Goren was not at all what I expected. He was tall, and I had expected that, but much, much bigger. I had imagined him to be tall and thin, like a basketball player. My son Jake had said he played basketball. And, I had imagined him to be kind of an ex-jock type guy, kind of smooth, even. He was definitely not any of those things. He kept flexing and clenching his fingers, trying to keep his hands still, and he was having a hard time looking steadily at me. I thought for a moment that if I did not tell him where Lucy was he might reach out and try to shake the information out of me.

* * *

**A/N:** _I think we're supposed to think that most people probably think Bobby is a little peculiar... _

_So, when I post what I write, I become addicted to reviews, so please keep me on task by dropping a review ;)_


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N:**_ This is still from the point of view of Laura (Lucy's sister)._

* * *

"Bobby." His partner said his name, her voice quiet. I watched him turn, very briefly to look at the petite brunette. I found her expression to be unreadable. Whatever unspoken thing they exchanged seemed to work. When he turned back to me, he seemed a bit more focused, and bit more steady. 

"I'm Laura, Lucy's sister." I repeated the words, as if to start again on a more reasonable note.

"Lucy should be fine. She had a seizure, she hit her head on her desk." I tried my best to keep my voice even, but I couldn't help myself from taking a small step backward, away from the large detective.

"She's had seizures before, not many. It's been a long time since she had one." I offered, wanting to take another step backward. I really couldn't believe this was Detective Goren. I had imagined him to be a tall, athletically built, superman looking kind of guy. I couldn't really understand how this man in front of me could possibly be the same man that went into someone's home the other night and calmed down a suicidal teenager on drugs who was waving around a loaded weapon.

"She has a concussion. They've taken her for a head CT. When I just left her a few minutes ago, she was asleep." I kept talking; he still was not saying a word. It was almost as if all of his physical energy was going into keeping himself standing still.

"She's going to be groggy for a while, a bit disoriented. That is kind of typical after the type of seizure she had." I continued.

"And for a concussion." Bobby Goren offered, kind of rubbing his forehead with the back of his wrist. I wasn't quite sure if he was talking to me, or merely commenting to himself.

"They're admitting her, at least for tonight." I looked toward the petite brunette for a bit of support, I was not feeling terribly certain about Detective Goren's frame of mind. Again, I was reminded that Helen kept calling him agitated. That was definitely the word for him right now, agitated.

His partner took a step toward us and spoke to him so quietly I could not hear her, even though I was just standing a few feet away. Then, to my surprise, and maybe my horror, she turned and left. She left him there, with me.

Thankfully, as the partner was walking out, I could see my husband Bruce walking in. I figured he set like some kind of land speed record making it through the city in that short amount of time. I thanked god that I wasn't left standing there alone with Detective Goren.

"How is Lucy?" Bruce asked, handing me my pocket book.

"She's getting some tests, a head CT. They're admitting her for tonight, mainly related to the concussion." I said to my husband, who was looking at Detective Goren. At least Bruce was tall enough to look him in the eye. Though, the detective probably had about 50 pounds on my husband.

"Bruce Carlson." My husband introduced himself.

"Bobby Goren." The detective replied.

"Good to meet you." Bruce said, shaking the detective's hand.

"You've done a lot for our family lately." Bruce offered. Bobby simply nodded, or maybe he kind of shrugged. Bruce seemed unaffected by Bobby Goren's awkward behavior. I was astounded.

"Have you called Annie?" Bruce asked me.

"Should I?" I asked, it had not occurred to me. I didn't think Annie would be upset with me if I waited an hour or so to phone her. But it occurred to me as I stood there looking at Bobby Goren, that there was someone that would be upset if I did not call him. Emil Skoda would be upset with me.

"Whatever you think." Bruce said to me, kissing me on my cheek. Then I watched him turn back to Bobby Goren and start chatting with Bobby like he was some perfectly normally behaved guy. Sometimes men struck me as so utterly clueless.

I thought about calling Emil. I couldn't see how that would go with this Bobby guy here in the ER, clearly waiting to see Lucy. Emil had been at Lucy's the other morning. But, Lucy had said Emil hadn't stayed the night. In fact, she had mentioned that he had driven back from Connecticut and had only arrived at her place a little while before Bruce and I had arrived.

I thought about Lucy's relationship with Emil. She really did love him, deeply. And, time after time across the years, he had hurt her, deeply. I knew that Emil being in Connecticut was significant. It was clear to me that Emil was with someone else when Lucy had phoned him. So, I felt a bit better about letting the bastard wait a while before I phoned him to let him know Lucy was in the hospital.

I looked back over to where Bruce was talking with Bobby Goren. I remembered thinking that maybe this was something new for Lucy. When Jake had said he had run into Lucy at that sneaker store, and she was with some guy who had talked basketball for a while, I thought maybe, maybe Lucy would finally open her heart to another guy. I felt like Lucy had been in love with Emil for so long, that maybe she had forgotten that she could love someone else. That was when I started imagining Bobby Goren to be something that he was not.

It occurred to me, as I looked at Bobby Goren, that in as much as he was not the superman type that I had imagined him to be, he was kind of the type that Lucy seemed to go for. He was tall, like our dad had been; smart, like Lucy; and probably a quirky kind of smart, which Lucy seemed to like. At least, that's what all of her friends were like.

I just kind of wished that Bobby came off a bit more centered. Or maybe, I just kind of wished that he shaved, or something. I looked at him, his suit was nice, his shoes were nice, but he hadn't shaved, and if short bristly hair could look like it was standing up, then his definitely looked like it was standing up.

As her sister, I felt that Lucy needed someone in her life that would love her without reason. Emil Skoda reasoned over everything. I wondered how much Bobby Goren reasoned over everything; he had certainly seemed completely without reason a few moments ago.

* * *

**A/N:** _As always, reviews welcome! Last night, I dreamed of an ending. Now, I simply need to write it down._


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N:** _Back to Lucy._

* * *

I could hear my sister Laura's voice, and I longed for my mother's touch and smell. My head was killing me, and I couldn't seem to quite open my eyes against the painfully bright light. 

"Lucy. Lucy." My sister was calling my name, it was a strange sound, as if she were far away, calling me home from our front door when we were girls.

"Lucy." My sister again, this time I managed to open my eyes, blinking, trying to focus. I was in the hospital, in a small hospital bed. I was very, very tired, and very cold. So cold, I was shivering.

"Hey, Lucy." I could feel my sister holding my hand, moving my hair back and away from my face. I wanted my mom, but I knew that I could not have her, I remembered attending her funeral, I remembered my sister crying.

"Hey, are you with me?" Laura was asking me looking at me, I pulled back a little bit, she seemed awfully close to me.

"Yeah, you're coming around." Laura smiled, sitting back a little. "Do you know where you are?" She asked, in that tolerant older sister kind of way.

"Hospital." I said. My mouth was dry, my voice was thick.

"Do you remember what happened?" She asked, in that same overly patient, falsely serene tone. There was nothing serene about my sister Laura.

"Should you be in California? Or, Hawaii?" I asked, wondering how she could be here in the hospital with me. She smiled, looking at me.

"That's not right." I said, closing my eyes for a moment, and a memory hit my brain like a bright flash. "You came home, for Jake." I said, my head feeling like it might split open.

* * *

"Lucy. Lucy." Again, my sister was calling my name, calling me home. I opened my eyes this time, a bit easier against the bright light. 

"Do you know where you are?" She asked, I was confused, she was standing on my other side, and now Bruce was standing with her. She had just been sitting on my left.

"Hospital." I said, my voice feeling a bit stronger. I realized that time must have elapsed, for her to move, for Bruce to be there.

"I hit my head." I said, reaching up to touch the top of my head.

"It hurts." I winced, closing my eyes. I could remember my sister Laura standing in front of me, irritation on her face, I felt like I was saying the wrong thing, I knew she was going to accuse me of putting words in her mouth, or stealing what she wanted to say before she could say it, then she was dropping her purse and running toward me.

"It must hurt," Bruce said, I could hear the smile in his voice, "you have about 11 stitches in that rock hard noggin of yours." I smiled.

I opened my eyes and my sister helped me drink some water, it felt good in my mouth, on my lips.

"11 stitches." I repeated what Bruce had said, trying to think about how I hit my head.

"You had a seizure." My sister sat down on the edge of the bed, holding onto the cup of water for me. I closed my eyes while she talked to me. I liked the sound of her voice. Sometimes she sounded so much like mom. She was talking about coming by my office, describing what had happened, encouraging me to try to remember. I was having a hard time listening to what she was saying, my eyes were closed and my mind felt eased a bit by the sound of her voice.

* * *

"Lucy, honey." My sister calling me again. I opened my eyes focusing on her. 

"I know where I am." I said, before she could ask me again. "Did you say Bobby Goren was here?" I asked, showing that I had heard at least part of what she had been saying to me.

"Yeah, he would like to come in and see you, that is, if you are up for it." Laura said, I noticed Bruce had left the room, so I knew I had drifted off again, at least for a few minutes.

"What're you doing?" She asked me, alarm in her voice, as I moved to try to stand.

"I need to um." I gestured toward the restroom.

"Oh, OK." She said, and helped me stand and steadied me a bit. She followed me to the small restroom and stood outside, talking to me.

"He's a little, um, weird." Laura was saying as I was washing my hands, splashing some water on my face. I looked at my reflection, pale, my eyes looked huge, my hair tangled. I splashed some water on my hair, watching my curls spring up tightly.

"He's not at all what I expected." Laura was continuing to talk. "He's bigger." She said, and I smiled, I knew that was not at all what she meant.

I knew that Laura imagined Bobby Goren to be some kind of super-jock, super-hero type. She had completely romanticized him, a potential love interest for me, a hero to her son Jake. I had not done or said anything to dispel her of those notions. In truth, I did not anticipate that she would ever have the opportunity to meet him, or at least not any time soon. I rinsed my mouth, thinking that it is the unanticipated things grab a hold of you and take you in a new direction.

"Yeah, he's bigger." I said, as I walked out of the bathroom on slightly unsteady feet. She looked at me as if she wanted me to say more. I felt like I had been hit by a very large truck. My every muscle ached, my brain felt very slow. I had a seizure and a concussion. Could any more anvils be falling from the sky to get me to get my life straight. On top of that, I had violated by own best advice, I hadn't been sleeping well or eating right. I wondered if Bobby would recognize the irony in that.

"If you let him visit me, I'll bet he'll go home after that." I offered, as she helped me back into the bed. I knew exactly what to say to appease her.

"Not too long." Laura said, straightening the blankets around me, fiddling with the bed's upright position a little.

"Not too long." I said, feeling very tired again. I closed my eyes for a moment. Again, I was struck, I couldn't believe I had had a seizure. It had been so long, more years than a decade. Yet, everything I was experiencing felt vividly familiar. Thinking back, I even should have recognized it coming. The aura was clear, but I had been distracted by my sister, by saying the wrong thing with her. She loved me, I knew, but she did not really think like me. And in as much as she meant well, she did not always know what was best for me. I wondered if she had called Annie. I knew that she probably hadn't, that she was probably thinking she would call her later, or that I could call her when I felt up to it.

* * *

When I opened my eyes, Bobby was standing nearby. 

"I'm, um, uh, sorry, you were, um, sleeping." He stood near the bed, his hands crossed in front of him.

"No, I just closed my eyes for a moment." I said, smiling at him.

"Laura says my office looks like a crime scene." This brought a smile from him.

"Did you use some of that fancy yellow tape while you were in my office?" I joked with him.

"No, no yellow tape." I watched him sit down in the chair near the bed.

"So, you know, you scared the life out of Helen." I stated, softly. Laura really had been concerned that he had unnecessarily intimidated Helen.

"Yeah, maybe." He said, furrowing his brow. "Eames said I was a little rough on your office manager." Bobby allowed.

"Eames is a wise woman." I replied.

"Yeah, she's usually right." He sounded thoughtful, reflective as he said the words, and then he looked back at me.

"So, the two of you, you're square?" I asked, hoping he had started to try to mend some things with his partner.

"More square, maybe." He replied.

"More square, maybe?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'm trying, I'm trying to, um, square some things with her." He looked away from me for a moment.

"I don't think your sister likes me very much." He said, looking at her standing in the hallway talking with one of the nurse's.

"I didn't think you thought about what people thought very much." I didn't really address what he had said. I yawned, not being able to help myself, my body felt very heavy, my eyes very heavy.

"Not too much." He replied.

"But I think about what you think." He said, very softly. My tired brain thought that he might be fishing for a little reassurance from me. It was easy to give, what was between us was square. At least I felt it was.

"I think you are a good man, Bobby." My voice was soft as well, but mine was sleepy, I couldn't seem to keep focused. "even though you didn't use the yellow tape in my office." He laughed.

* * *

"Lucy. Lucy." He was calling my name. I opened my eyes, I could feel the warmth of his hands on mine. His eyes were heavy with concern. He reached out, pushing my hair away from my face, tucking some of it behind my ear. 

"I'm glad you're here." I admitted. I didn't have the energy to guard my feelings.

"I'm glad I'm here." He replied, lifting my hand to his lips, kissing my fingers softly.

"How do you feel?" He asked.

"Tired." I said. "A little hazy." I admitted. "In love with you." I whispered. He looked at me, his expression shifting from concern to surprise.

"Your sister, she said you were having a hard time remembering the past few days, a hard time sequencing time. Typical of a seizure or a concussion." He offered, looking at me. I knew he was trying to see if I remembered, if I remembered showing up at his place last night.

"I remember." I said, I curled up onto my side, so I was facing him, closely. He leaned forward, toward me. "I remember." I reached out my other hand and touched his face.

"I love you," I said. He was nodding, he looked happy, relieved, and he softly took both my hands in his, again softly kissing my fingers.

"I love you Lucy." He said, his voice breaking. It was the first time he had said those words to me quite like that.

"These past few weeks, there've been some things." I started to say. He was nodding.

"Detective Goren?" He asked, surprising me a bit.

"He's a friend, I think he will be a good friend." I said, realizing of course Emil knew, Emil knew me better than anyone. What I had with Bobby was just beginning. I knew that right now Bobby needed a friend in me, that was why he was reaching out to me, and that was why when I would stand close to him in his arms, he did not reach out for me. Emil was reaching out for me.

"I believe Detective Goren could use a good friend." Emil revealed that he knew Bobby, or at least knew of Bobby's reputation within the department.

"And Connecticut?" I asked.

"Connecticut is done." Emil said, moving his fingers across mine.

"But…" I was about to point out that he was just there, a few nights ago.

"I love you Lucy." He said the words again, and again I thought he said them in a way that he had never said them before. We shared a lot between us, and I knew it would not be easy. But I also knew my heart, and I knew that right now, my heart was his.

* * *

EPILOGUE 

"Dr. Jones?" Helen walked into my office behind me. I was looking at my desk, there was no blood to be seen. I was looking at the floor, all clean.

"Hi Helen." I replied, without looking over my shoulder.

"This was delivered for you." She handed me something wrapped in brown paper. She was standing beside me, looking at my desk.

"They did a good job. There really was blood everywhere." Helen said, still a bit traumatized by the other day.

"It's all clean. All clear." I said, looking at her. "It's all OK." I said, making sure she was looking at me. She nodded, and I watched her walk back out to reception before opening the brown paper.

I smiled as I held a roll of bright yellow police tape in my hands. I had come clean with Bobby, and he had let me know that he was aware of my relationship with Emil Skoda, that there really were no secrets in NYPD. There was a yellow sticky note on top, and I read Bobby Goren's left-handed writing - _For your office, I forgot to use it the other day.__ You can repay me with coffee.__Sunday at 4:00?__R__G_.

* * *

**A/N:** _Thanks for reading and reviewing me. I loved writing this. I think Bobby may find a great friend in Lucy, which may be more important for him than a great romance (at least for now ;). Have a happy holiday, see you in the New Year!_


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